


Sins of the Father

by lanapanda



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-19 06:22:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 36,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanapanda/pseuds/lanapanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Science is easy. Relationships, not so much. Trust isn't a machine, and fixing it when it's broken is no easy task.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everything Changed, but I Still Feel the Same

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darksquall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darksquall/gifts).



> There will eventually be a happy (Science boyfriends) ending to this story. I apologize for any damage done to your feels in the meanwhile.

Tony was first to find him. Tony was always first to find Bruce when he changed back — it was like some kind of natural magnetism between the two of them. He didn’t need to run a sim, didn’t need to look at the way bodies or buildings were strewn in the aftermath. He just thought to himself ‘where would Bruce go?’ and there, Tony always found him.  
  
He brought him pants, a shirt, a new pair of glasses. Tony had them in a compartment in the suit, always. Even after everything else between them had changed, even after Bruce no longer looked up at him and gave him that sweet, tired smile at the end of the day, even after there was silence between them instead of comforting words and soft kisses, even after Tony had given up ever having him back… this part of the routine never changed.   
  
Until today. Today instead of handing over pants and shirt and new glasses while averting his eyes, Tony was calling in the team. Because today there was blood. There was smoke. And there was Bruce, but he wasn’t waking up. 

“I need the Quinjet out here, now,” Tony said. His voice sounded like it was coming a long way off, to him. Like he was listening to someone else call out the coordinates and the med team.   
  
“Preliminary scan indicates nothing is broken and there are no severe internal injuries of any kind, Sir. He should be safe to move,” JARVIS’s voice was much closer than his own had seemed to be.   
  
Tony stooped to slide the pants on Bruce, to gently lift him and hold him close. With the power of the suit, Bruce’s weight was negligible. But he still wasn’t moving and that made for a heaviness against Tony’s heart, if not in his arms.  _Where the hell is the Quinjet? What the fuck is taking so long?_  
  
His visor readout said it had been 68 seconds with no response. Tony swore out loud. Bruce was bleeding. Tony could see little rivulets of it running from the cuts on Bruce’s arm, dark red against the bright red and gold of the armor.. The readouts said he was breathing, but…   
  
“Sir, Dr. Banner’s blood is still radioactive, I would not advise —”   
  
“Yeah, I know, radiation’s bad for you. We’ve had this conversation about the reactor before, remember?”   
  
“Yes, Sir. However, gamma is a different spectrum than we tested for the filtration,” JARVIS replied patiently.   
  
“So test it now,” Tony said as he removed the helmet of the suit and lifted Bruce closer, his ear right near Bruce’s mouth to feel the stir of breath… Yes, definitely breathing. But not as well as Tony would have liked “… fuck.” Tony flipped on the comm. “Guys, I'm bringing Banner in hot — have a med team ready and shield the med bay. ETA two minutes.”


	2. Interim into the Past

“Someone make Stark go home,” Fury looked around the table, meeting each person’s eyes in turn. “It’s been four days, and the man hasn’t slept. We  _need_  him working. Our intel says we have less than a week before the next attack and without that new toy of his, we’re looking at a lot of collateral damage and potential civilian casualties.”    
  
Clint piped up. “Sir, if he’s not listening to you, I’m not sure how much more effective any of us would —”   
  
“I’ll do it,” Steve interrupted. “I’ll go talk to him, Sir.”   
  
Clint and Natasha exchanged looks as Steve got up from the table and left the room.   
  
“Agent Barton, Agent Romanov — something you want to share with the class?”   
  
“No sir,” Natasha said with a shake of her head.   
  
“Nothing sir,” Clint replied.   
  
Fury drummed his fingers on the table and eyed them both. What he wouldn’t give for Phil to be back from medical leave. “Alright. Dismissed.”

———————————-

Tony didn’t even look up when Steve entered the medlab. Bruce’s wounds had healed within hours of being brought back, and he no longer posed a radioactive threat. He hadn’t woken up, either. Tony had been there the entire time, asking questions and getting in the way until someone pointed out that the suit might interfere with the monitors and give false readings.   
  
So Tony had left long enough to take off the suit and come back. The medical staff knew better than to put it in the reports, but Tony had barely moved in four days after the initial scans were complete. More often than not, he had a hand over one of Bruce’s.   
  
Steve noted that was the case as he shut the door behind himself. “Hey, Tony…”   
  
“What the hell do you want now, Rogers?” Tony sighed and glanced back at him. His hand moved away from Bruce’s and back to the tablet on his lap. “I’m working.”   
  
“Bullshit.” The word didn’t have any force behind it. No anger. Steve suddenly felt tired.  “You need to go home and get some rest. Doctor Banner will be alright here.”   
  
“Did you suddenly sprout a medical degree along with everything else that came in the bottle, Captain?” Tony’s mouth twisted into a sarcastic smirk before he turned away again to look at the readout on the tablet. “I’ll go when he wakes up.”   
  
“That might not be for days, and we need you working now, Tony. Please. Look, I know I might have made a mistake —”   
  
“ _Might_  have made a mistake?!” Tony’s eyebrows raised in incredulity as his gaze snapped to Steve again, and he had to take a deep breath to calm down and lower his voice. “Might have…? You know what, Steve? Your biggest mistake is in thinking that I’m anything like my father. I’m not. I really don’t give a damn about your apologies or what you thought or what you wanted. And I sure as hell don’t give a damn about you and your ‘ _mistakes_ ’.”   
  
Steve’s blue eyes met Tony’s openly and his jaw clenched, just once, before he spoke. “You thought I was him, didn’t you?” He nodded towards Bruce, lying still and calm on the bed. “That night, in your office when it was dark… you thought —”   
  
“It doesn’t matter what I thought,” Tony cut Steve off and stood up. The only thing that had mattered was what Bruce had thought. And after two weeks of late nights and vague excuses from Tony as to why, seeing Steve leaning over Tony in the dark had seemed like its own explanation. Tony didn’t blame Bruce for that. The half-empty bottle of scotch was no excuse and none of this was Bruce’s fault. And… as much as Tony hated to admit it, Steve was even right about something for a change. Tony should be working. Needed to be.   
  
Because waiting by Bruce’s bedside wasn’t going to change anything once Bruce opened his eyes. Tony had still fucked up. They were still over. Six months, five days, 17 hours, 31.7653 seconds and counting — over.   
  
“Tony, I thought he left the office that night because he didn’t approve of two guys… I mean… I didn’t realize… no one on the team knew that you and he were…” Christ. This was a mess. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. Tony Stark was not Howard Stark. He knew that. But they had the same eyes, the same mouth… and just once Steve had let himself slip. Let himself hope for a little sliver of the past come back to him in the way Tony’s lips had met his. He’d thought Bruce moving out of the Tower meant that maybe Tony was… not as upset about the kiss as he’d let on, right after. That the shoving had been from trying to save face in front of a friend and a colleague. But now… “Sorry.”   
  
Tony just laughed and shook his head, moving to the door with far steadier steps than a man who hadn’t slept in four days had any right to have. “Well, you weren’t wrong. He didn’t approve of two guys kissing. Not you and me, anyway. Keep the apology — I’ve got work to do.” 


	3. Too Quiet Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters seem to get longer as I go on. Ah well.

Tony had the music in the lab turned up loud enough to rattle the pens on his desk, but it still wasn’t loud enough to drown out the quiet of working alone.   
  
When Bruce had first moved in and they’d started working together long-term, the music had been their biggest compromise. Tony liked it cranked to 11. He liked to feel the music vibrate the floor and up through the soles of his feet. It helped to ground him, kept him focused and once Tony had zeroed in on the solution, he didn’t really hear the music anymore anyway.   
  
But Bruce needed quiet. He had lived the past few years of his life being hunted by the military with explosions and heavy artillery fire punctuating his nightmares. The lab was a safe place. Safe places for Bruce were, by definition, quiet places. Places where he could take notes and listen to the hum of the equipment without any sudden distractions jarring his calculations. It wasn’t a matter of “going green” — Bruce’s control was well beyond the stress caused by a guitar riff — but he wanted to avoid inadvertent triggers that led to bad memories and worse dreams.   
  
So Tony agreed to try to work in silence, even though he was dreading it. But with Bruce there, the lab was never actually silent. There was always some new breakthrough to discuss, a peer-reviewed paper to dissect for flaws, an interesting quirk in one of their shared experiments to explore. There was also a lot of teasing and laughter and the occasional lingering kiss when a test case came out just like it should have in their predictions.   
  
Tony knew he was in love when talking to Bruce and occasionally holding his hand while they waited for Jarvis to run up the latest simulation felt like coming home. Not falling in love, but in it, deep and sinking deeper. Tony hadn’t even missed the music, not once.   
  
Then five months later, it all fell apart. No, that wasn’t fair. It blew apart and it had been Tony’s hand hovering unwillingly over the detonator the entire time for the two weeks leading up to the end. His fault. Not Bruce’s.   
  
Tony dragged a hand through his hair, sighed and took another look at the numbers he was getting on the readouts. A half-empty glass of scotch sat at the far corner of his desk, the last remnants of a bottle he’d been nursing for the better half of a week since the incident that had put Bruce in the medlab.         
  
No one had warned him that working alone again would be so difficult. And no one had mentioned the way the silence would seep in between the bass and the guitar and the brief pauses from one line of lyrics to the next. Tony had his Black Sabbath again, but all he really wanted was the warmth of Bruce’s hand in his own and the way they would sometimes sit back to back, working on their separate projects but with their hands clasped together just like that…   
  
“Mute,” Tony said, and rubbed his eyes with one hand before he completely broke down. Crying was for children. And anyway, it wouldn’t help. Better to focus on the work at hand, get this thing figured out and turned over to Fury, but the readouts weren’t making any sense. Maybe putting it on visual would help.  “Jarvis, give me a map of the energy outputs after the blast. Overlay with elevation of terrain.”   
  
“Of course, sir.”   
  
The map popped up, cool greens and blues, with a smattering of very light yellow-green. It didn’t make sense. There was an explosion. The sky lit up. The Hulk had been knocked unconscious and was hit hard enough that Bruce was still bleeding when he switched back. Tony knew that what he should be seeing was a swath of red, orange, and yellow.   
  
“What the hell…?” Tony drummed his fingers on the desk and pushed that screen away. “Alright. Replay the video feed from the suit. Give me overlay on that and our energy outputs during the incident. Also, get me an update on Doctor Banner.”   
  
“Energy readouts from the suit are also below expected levels. Tertiary analysis indicates that the measures are accurate, sir. Medical reports on Dr. Banner indicate that his condition is still stable. Should I transfer your work to the Helicarrier, sir?”   
  
“No… no. Fury’s still antsy because I can’t complete this nullification field. But every readout we’ve got says there’s no energy or backlash to nullify, which is wrong because I can see the energy, and the backlash right there… “   
  
“May I venture a suggestion, sir?”   
  
By all means, Jarvis. Shoot.” Tony massaged his temples and ignored the quiet as best he could.   
  
“If the readouts are correct, perhaps it is the data feed that is wrong.”   
  
“What, like a hack to my visual uplink?”   
  
“I have not sensed any intrusion, sir. But there is still a possibility of outside influence and the readouts are unusual.”   
  
Tony stood up and started pacing, “No, the protocols on the suit are nearly hack-proof, and I’d definitely have detected the ghosting if it was external. It wasn’t an imaginary blast that knocked the Hulk out of commission… but maybe… maybe I’m just not seeing what’s really happening here.”   
  
“In what way, sir?”   
  
“I’m not sure. Alright, Jarvis. Let’s take it frame by frame.”   
  
Tony watched as the video feed ticked through the explosion, and held out a hand when he was only a few frames in. “Wait. That right there.”   
  
“Sir?”   
  
“That trajectory is off… it’s… that part of the blast looks like it’s moving in the opposite direction.” Tony pointed it out on screen. “Can you cross-reference that and calculate the amount of energy it takes to make the explosion blow back against itself?”   
  
Jarvis took a few moments to process, before he replied, “Sir. By my calculations, there would have to be dozens of those alternate trajectories hidden within the explosion itself. It appears to be an absorption field.” Multiple hidden trajectories started to light up on screen, covering the area with abnormal readouts.  
  
“… sonovabitch. I know where I’ve seen this before. Alright, time for a field trip. Wrap all this up, and send my data and the final report over to the Helicarrier,” Tony said as he held out both arms. The containment field around the Mach VII opened and the suit flew over and started to envelope Tony right where he stood in the lab.   
  
“Sir, you might want to call for backup…”   
  
“If my report doesn’t get them to send someone, then that’s their loss,” Tony ran through a quick systems check, and then flew for the balcony — up and out, heading back to the crash site with his afterburners leaving a perfect contrail in his wake.


	4. Too Quiet Outside

Bruce didn’t normally remember things from the time when he was the Other Guy, but occasionally some perceptions would filter through. It felt like being almost asleep, right at the edge of lucid dreaming where one is an active participant in the tricks the mind plays at rest.   
  
This time, the only thing he got from the Other Guy was silence. Everything was quiet and calm and still. No distant rumble of anger behind his eyes. No thinly-veiled chaos waiting to consume him. Nothing of Brian Banner’s ghost bleeding out in the back of his mind.   
  
 _Am I dead?_ Bruce wondered,  _or just dreaming?_     
  
Sleep, real sleep and not just the fits and starts of a man on the run… it had been scarce. For an all too-brief stretch of time, Tony had changed that.   
  
Tony liked to sleep as close to Bruce as possible, one arm around Bruce’s waist, his face pressed against Bruce’s throat. If Bruce slept on his back, Tony might even have one leg resting on top of Bruce’s own. Sleeping on his side was better — it meant that Bruce would wake up eight hours later with Tony’s nose right against the nape of his neck, breathing quiet, soft breaths into the curls there…  
  
 _No, can’t be dead. That memory still hurts._ Bruce tried to hold his hands out in front of himself, but nothing happened. He couldn’t move. The Hulk didn’t appear. No figment of General Ross or Betty. Nothing. Nothing except the memory of Tony’s breathing, the warmth at his back when Tony would curl up against him… that memory was still there. And it still hurt like hell knowing that the reality of it was gone. A sham.   
  
 _“I really don’t want to think about you right now, Tony,”_  Bruce said. Or tried to say. The words seemed to hang out there in the empty space where there was nothing at all. They were met with silence, and then a brief memory of Tony’s brown eyes, and the way he would look at Bruce from underneath his (entirely too long) eyelashes and smile before suggesting a test case well outside of project parameters “just to see what it does”. Bruce sighed to himself and let the memories do as they would.  
  
Even better than the sly look was the wide-eyed look, and the gentle vulnerability that Tony sometimes had when he let his guard down enough to stop pretending to smile all the time. Then there was the way Tony had always kissed Bruce like he meant it, one hand tangled in Bruce’s hair as though he never wanted to let go…  
  
It wasn’t fair, but it wasn’t anything new, either. Even more than half a year apart had done little to nothing to erase the memories. Too many good ones to get rid of all at once. Too many things that hadn’t added up in the end.   
  
Tony had been hiding something. Bruce had noticed it almost immediately, the way Tony would sometimes pull away abruptly with no explanation. The vague excuses for why he needed to go back to the office after hours and stay, sometimes til the next morning. Bruce had noticed and put it down to stress and Tony’s relaunch of the Expo project  that was set to get underway soon.   
  
Too bad the only real project had been trading kisses with Steve Rogers in the dark. Too bad for Bruce, that is.   
  
“You know you’re wrong.” The Hulk’s voice reappeared, and he brought with him the scent of metal and fire. A flicker of that last explosion they’d been in along with wavy lines of blue light made its way into Bruce’s consciousness.    
  
 _“About what, exactly?”_  
  
“Tinman.”   
  
 _“I must be dreaming if you’re giving me relationship advice,”_ Bruce sighed again and then found he could move within the mental landscape at last. He took a look around at the last threads of memory he had before falling into… whatever this was. Tony again. Or Iron Man. It was the same, really.   
  
Even after he left the tower, Tony had kept right on bringing him clothes. Kept right on working with him aboard the Helicarrier. Bruce had thought that Tony would eventually start to spend more time with Steve, but if anything Tony avoided Steve even more after he and Bruce had gone their separate ways.   
  
“No advice. You know it was wrong.”   
  
 _“Alright, I’ll bite. What was wrong?”_    
  
“The smell,” Hulk smirked and stepped into a ray of light cast from a memory of the afternoon sun as it slanted against a broken wall. “Tinman only smelled like you.”   
  
Bruce started to refute him, but the memories of what Tony had always smelled like (that cologne that reminded Bruce of mulled cider and cinnamon, plus salt and sweat, hot metal and masculinity…) were always so consistent. Bruce shook his head.  _“We have more important things to worry about right now. If we’re both in here, that means I’m asleep. And if that’s the case I should be able to wake up, but I can’t.”_    
  
The Hulk shrugged. “Light makes sleep.”   
  
 _“What light?”_    
  
The Hulk shrugged again, and before Bruce could repeat the question, another voice made itself heard.  
  
“Bruce? Bruce, I don’t know if you can hear me… but we really need you to wake up.”


	5. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it worse to do all the right things for all the wrong reasons, or vice versa?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I think I've made it worse. No, I'm pretty sure I've made it worse.

If Tony had to choose between flying and lasers, flying would win out every time -- at least where the suit was concerned. The higher he got, the farther away his problems seemed to be, the easier it was to just breathe, and the better it felt live in the moment. Being with Bruce had been like flying; now that was just one more memory he tried to outrun as he pushed the suit to its limits.  
  
The energy pattern of the nullification field was familiar. He’d seen it in his father’s notes when he worked on the first arc reactor. Just like the reactor, technology hadn’t quite been there: it would have to rely heavily on quantum entanglement to be able to affect whatever energy source it wanted to absorb.  
  
Hell of a theory for absorbing a nuclear explosion, though. Or a gamma-based transformation.  
  
Depending on how long the quantum entanglement lasted, the suppression of Bruce’s transformation could last days or weeks -- there was no way for Tony to know which until he got his hands on one of the generators that powered the nullification field. Assuming he could find it. And assuming whoever it was they were up against hadn’t come back for them already.  
  
Too many variables, and not enough time to solve for the most important one - i.e. who else had access to his father’s work? There had been any number of answers to that equation over the years, but those people were no longer a threat. ( _How did you solve the icing problem, you traitorous, backstabbing sonovabitch? Oh that’s right, you didn’t._) Still, someone out there was. And if SHIELD could get someone into his company and practically into his pants without him realizing that they were a plant, there was always the chance that someone else had managed at least the first part.  
  
But not the second.  
  
Tony let even less people into his inner circle now. There weren’t many parties anymore. It was a conscious choice -- the less people the terrorists had to target, the better the chance that the people he cared about would be safe. It was almost laughable, he thought. Nothing pushed people away faster than being responsible. Pepper had tried to understand, but it had taken seeing the data from the recorder for it to really hit home. That Tony might not come back. That he would suit up, every time, knowing he might not come back. Tony couldn’t change that, not even for her. Not for Bruce either, but Bruce had understood it even if he didn’t like it, and they were both men enough to shove that ‘what if’ crap into a corner to die somewhere without them.  
  
In the end, it wasn’t the drinking or the partying or the flirting that had cost him Pepper, or Bruce for that matter. It was responsibility. Trying to do the right thing. _Maybe I should go back to the drinking and the partying and a different woman on my dick every night, just to even it out. Fuck responsibility. Fuck everything. And furthermore --_  
  
“Sir. We’re approaching the target coordinates.”  
  
“Right. Show me what we’ve got, JARVIS. I need to find a nullification field generator. It’s going to be palm sized or a little bigger, and there are probably fifteen of them in that array I put in the report,” Tony said as he slowed down enough to make for a graceful descent.    
  
“Scanning now, Sir.”  
  
There was nothing much to look at on the HUD -- the battle had taken out two long since abandoned storage facilities for some defunct manufacturing operation, both of which were crumpled in on one side from the force of the initial explosions. Fortunately this was well outside the general urban area, so there were no people milling about trying to sneak a picture on their way to work. SHIELD had cordoned it off, but after the initial sweep even they didn’t seem to think it warranted manned security, as the entire place was deserted.  
  
“C’mon... c’mon... there’s no way you managed to get them all out of here without _someone_ noticing...” Tony muttered to himself and paced through the parking lot between the two buildings. It was quiet. Just the wind stirring the debris and the distant sound of traffic on the interstate some miles away. No one else around, not even birds.  
  
The HUD lit up in the far corner of one of the entryways to the first building, a partially broken wall and questionable roofing in between Tony and the glowing blue circle that JARVIS had found. “Sir, I would recommend caution at this juncture. We haven’t verified any secondary or tertiary capabilities.”  
  
“And we won’t, if I don’t get my hands on it to see how it works. Time for some heavy lifting,” Tony said, smirking a little as he flew over to start removing the debris bit by bit. The suit did a lot of the work, but it wasn’t effortless. He still had to put both physical strength and mental willforce into it to get the suit to move the way he wanted it to, and that made it a workout.  
  
Throwing chunks of plaster, concrete, brick and wood to the side was incredibly satisfying -- Tony could see why the big guy enjoyed it. You didn’t have to think. You didn’t have to plan. You sure as hell didn’t have to worry that your boyfriend of six months was going to catch you huddled against a wall in the middle of the night because without the drinking, the flashbacks made you think you were in a cave in the middle of the desert.  
  
It was good, this throwing heavy shit around, Tony decided. He could get used to enjoying it.  
  
He almost regretted it when he heaved the last portion of the wall over to one side and it fell with a loud -THUD- that echoed through the suit. Not because of the noise, but because the noise was all over, the hard physical work was all done and now he was going to have to take this generator back to the lab and work in the quiet again.  
  
On the outside, the generator wasn’t much to look at. Sleek, silver-titanium case, shaped something like two frisbees sandwiched together with a ring of glowing blue light around the middle where the energy was emitted that would cause the entanglement. Tony stooped down to get it a closer look, checking the readouts on the HUD.  
  
“Sir, I’m getting an abnormal sub-sonic reading that --”  
  
There was shielding in the Mach VII to prevent electrocution. There was also a level of EMP shielding that was unsurpassed on the planet. Whatever it was that hit the suit, Tony knew two things: One, it was capable of draining his power reserves to 35% on one hit. And two, it hurt like swallowing fire and pissing razor blades. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He could hear JARVIS but it was like hearing a bee buzzing in a tin can, five feet to the left.  
  
Tony didn’t remember being on his hands and knees, but he and the suit stood up, just the same, and this time his warning sensors let him know he had an incoming in time for him to dodge. Falling backwards next to the generator counted as dodging in this instance, Tony was sure of it.  
  
Now there were noises flooding back. Footsteps, lots of them. That usually meant paramilitary force of some kind. _So, HYDRA, maybe. Where the hell did they come from? I didn’t hear any vehicles, no jets... those are normal boots on asphalt so it’s not robots... maybe some kind of variant stealth tech?_ Tony grappled with the possibilities as he reached for the generator and got one of the compartments in the suit open to tuck it away.  
  
“ -- take another hit like that, all systems are going to go offline,” JARVIS’ voice cut through the haze like a knife.    
  
Tony put both hands together, in front of his face, and fired off the repulsors at the closest enemy. There was a satisfying shriek, and then the unmistakable sound of guns being drawn. _Why is everything so... cloudy...? Fuck... it’s not just draining the suit’s reactor. It’s draining my reactor... fuck... _ “JARVIS. Scan the internal workings on this generator. Upload it to SHIELD. Send out a distress call. In that order...”  
  
“Already done, Sir.”  
  
Bullets were not a problem for the Mach VII. Iron Man was built to withstand that kind of punishment and more, so Tony just let them shoot while he tried to catch his breath and get into auxiliary power mode. He could hear the bullets ricochet and a few of the enemy (not HYDRA, Tony noted -- same tailor, different patch) were taken out by their own zealotry.  
  
“Alright, full auxillary power to the thrusters. I need to get airborne.” Tony hated using JARVIS’ protective instincts against him, but this was too important to run. These people had his father’s tech, and they had the ability to modify and improve upon it -- too dangerous not to pursue. His weapons, his tech, his responsibility. (There was that word again.) Tony pushed the thrusters into high gear, and flew straight at the enemy mob, letting the suit’s laser targeting system do most of the work for him. These were foot soldiers. He needed someone higher up.  
  
Tony just had to hope he could lure out whoever it was soon, before --  
  
“Sir. I must advise that we retreat. Power levels are dropping precipitously. You are in preliminary cardiac arrest. There is no way for me to maintain life support if both reactors are depleted.”  
  
“Knew that. Keep firing,” Tony wheezed, then gritted his teeth, ignoring the way his vision was starting to go dark.


	6. The Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, some things are better left unsaid. But not always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what to say anymore. I swear on a stack of doughnuts that there is a happy ending still.

“C’mon Bruce, we really need you to wake up now.” Natasha kept her voice low and calm, despite the fact that Fury was sending out every available Avenger in the next ten minutes against a threat that none of them completely understood. Stark’s data had come through -- a report that some of their top researchers had said equated to Very Bad Things (though what those things were, they weren’t entirely sure), and the fact that Iron Man was headed to the site of the first altercation.  
  
Fury didn’t like the fact that Iron Man went on his own, and he really didn’t like the fact that the only other person who knew Tony’s work well enough to give them the full details still hadn’t regained consciousness, despite spikes in brain activity that pointed to awareness.   
  
Natasha had volunteered to try to get Bruce to wake up because out of everyone on the team (besides Stark) she was the one Bruce was most likely to respond to. “Please, Bruce. This is important. I know you must be hurting, but I promise you can go right back to sleep after you help us with just this one thing.”   
  
Silence. The monitors beeped and spiked whenever she spoke to Bruce, but the man himself... nothing. Natasha sighed and stood up -- she was going to have to double-check her gear and maybe they could route some of the data to Selvig to see if he understood it.   
  
Bruce’s eyelashes fluttered and he groaned, moving to put one hand over his eyes against the bright light of the medlab. Natasha moved quickly to dim the lights and Bruce sighed.   
  
“I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”   
  
It was always the first question he asked. Natasha felt strange to be the one answering it, after hearing Tony say the words so many times over the comm. “No, Doctor, you didn’t hurt anyone. But I need to bring you up to speed pretty fast -- we have a situation.”   
  
Bruce rubbed his eyes with the heel of either hand and sighed again. “A situation, right. Ah... where are my glasses?” This felt... surreal. He’d had dreams of talking to the Hulk before, or even moments where he lived inside his own head with the nightmares and the darkness. But this was the first time that he’d come back from a transformation via a lingering dream that was full of light. And it was definitely the only time he’d ever _not_ felt the burning fire of the radiation in his veins afterwards. It made Bruce wonder what SHIELD might have dosed him with, or if he was, in fact, still dreaming. But he could feel the Hulk again, restless in the back of his mind. Their conversation had been cut short and now all Bruce got were distant rumbles and flashes of anger.   
  
“On the bedside table. Here, I’ll get them.” Natasha crossed the short distance to the table and handed Bruce the pair of glasses Tony had left. He’d left the clothes too, but thankfully SHIELD-issue medical gowns were properly modest. “I hate to rush you, but do you think you could look at some files while we talk?”  
  
“Files of...?” Bruce put on his glasses, and eyed the IV in his left arm -- it was shielded, all of his equipment was shielded, but the precautions seemed remarkably low. He held out a hand for the folder that Natasha had retrieved from the desk near the bed.   
  
“Well, we’re not exactly sure. Stark found something.”   
  
Bruce flipped open the folder and started reading. “Why didn’t you ask him?”   
  
“He didn’t exactly make himself available for answers. Listen, Doctor... you’ve been unconscious for eight days. Whatever this is that Mr. Stark found, he sent the files over and went back to the area where the Hulk encountered hostiles last week.” Natasha carefully recited the facts. Strange military-style activity in a civilian area. Investigation, confrontation. Hulk neutralized, Bruce unconscious.... she paused and then skipped over Tony’s four-day vigil. They didn’t have time to get into that. “We were hoping Stark would be able to take the readout of what hit you and come up with something to neutralize it, but he went radio silent on us until today. That’s when he sent those files and --”   
  
“Blue light.”   
  
“I’m sorry, what?”   
  
“It’s an absorption field... I’m sorry, this,” Bruce gestured to the file with one hand, “is an absorption field.”  
  
“The thing Fury wanted him to make?”   
  
“If it is, then someone else made it. This isn’t Tony’s... Mr. Stark’s usual design ratio,” Bruce said as he ran a hand through his hair, mussing the sleep-tousled curls even more. “It’s similar, I’ll give them that, but not the same.”   
  
“Then this is what he’s looking for back at the original site...” Natasha frowned. No wonder Fury had been so adamant that they get moving. If someone had already built something like this that was so similar to Stark technology...   
  
“Wait. You said he went back to the original site? Where you found me?” Bruce felt a flash of panic, hot and unwelcome, as he realized exactly what the Hulk had been trying to tell him. “We’ve got to go. Now.” He struggled against the bedcovers before throwing them off entirely. The machines hooked to his arms and legs protested, sending out waves of alarms that brought nurses running to the room.   
  
“Doctor, what is it?” Natasha didn’t try to stop him -- too many times helping Clint get geared up in just the same sort of way. She helped unhook everything except the necessarily unpleasant and personal lines. Those she left for the first nurse who dared to actually come in and see what the fuss was about.   
  
“It’s a nullification field. It nullifies energy. **_Any_** energy.”   
  
“... even from an arc reactor.”   
  
“Yes, Ms. Romanov, even that.” The wash of green that rolled over Bruce’s skin was enough to make the nurse retreat immediately after removing the last line, and Bruce stood up, swaying slightly. “I need pants. Just pants.” No point in ruining another shirt. “We’re going to need you, Hawkeye, Cap -- Thor might be able to overload the field, but if they could take the Other Guy out for over a week, I wouldn’t count on it.”   
  
The alarm sounded just as Bruce got his pants on, and he flung the hospital gown across one of the chairs as he followed Natasha into the hall.   
  
Hawkeye met them.   
  
“Distress call from Iron Man -- he just sent over a full schematic of that thing that he said he was looking for. Guess he found it. And a welcoming committee. Cap’s already in the Quinjet.”   
  
Bruce felt the Hulk’s roar echo through the back of his mind and this time the greenish tinge to his skin didn’t fade. _Tony... goddamnit why would you go out there alone?_ A sensation like liquid fire ran down his arms and legs, through every fiber of muscle and nerves and the Hulk’s roar got louder, but Bruce forced it back. _Not now. Not here. But soon. Promise._ His eyes held that burning green glow when he looked at Clint.   
  
“Let’s get moving.”


	7. Use Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Tony continues to prove that he has more stubborn than is healthy or wise. Also, the cavalry arrives, but the result is not all that it seems at first.

He had two minutes.

Power reserves for the suit were at 19% and every so often the reactor in his chest would spark and sputter as it tried to stay online, sending a jolt of pain through his ribcage and down his back. The air was alive with the sound of bullets and heavy artillery fire. Tony alternated using the repulsors and the lasers with just regular bullets, gritting his teeth against both the pain and the inevitable frustration whenever his shots went wide because he couldn’t predict when the arc reactor would make him lock up in a spasm.   
  
_Fuck, where are they all coming from?_ Tony scanned the area as best he could while fending off yet another round of attacks. There were too many for this to be a random drop. No transport system that he could find. No vehicles. He still wasn’t able to see whatever it was that initially drained his power, and that meant he couldn’t trust the readouts. His only option was to keep firing and avoid getting hit again while he tried to triangulate a location based on the direction of the blasts.   
  
At least until his power ran out.  
  
Tony ignored flashing red 15% in the corner of the HUD, and the prickle of sweat rolling down his back and locked onto five more targets. The shoulder-mounted weaponry on the suit unfolded and rose into place, firing off two rounds for each enemy. Then the pain hit again, a hot, gnawing sensation crawling through his chest, over his lungs and down his spine as the reactor struggled to keep spinning.   
  
“Sir, there’s still a chance for retreat. The Quinjet is on its way and --”   
  
“Can it, JARVIS,” Tony forced the words out through clenched teeth. “I try to run now and whatever it is they’ve been firing at me gets a clean shot.”    
  
Iron Man dropped to one knee, bracing up against the pain. One hand on the ground, one hand held up, palm out, prepared to fire the repulsor. Another jolt from the reactor made the darkness around the edges of Tony’s vision seep in a little more. It was enough to almost blot out the flashing red 11% in his immediate periphery.   
  
And then he saw it -- a heat shimmer, a glossy rainbow haze in the air at least 20 yards away from him. It outlined the contours of a muzzle that looked wide enough to be at home on a standard tank.   
Iron Man staggered to his feet. The remaining foot soldiers were clearing out of the way. It was his best chance.   
  
“Fuck it, Fire Everything.” Tony prepared himself for the kickback and held out both hands.   
  
“... Yes Sir. Commencing Fuck it, Fire Everything Protocol in 3... 2...” 

\-------------------------------

  
Even at 10% the suit had enough juice to level a skyscraper or six. The light from the Omnibeam as it shot from Iron Man’s chest was bright enough to be visible in broad daylight from the Quinjet and Bruce felt his heart drop as he saw it flare up like St. Elmo’s fire, then flicker and die out just as quickly. The green hadn’t faded from his skin or his eyes for the entire flight, and Bruce knew that as much as the others trusted him, they were watching him to be sure that the Other Guy didn’t rip the Quinjet apart from the inside.   
  
“What was that?” Captain America’s attention snapped to the window at the sight of blue-white energy streaming into the sky near their landing zone.   
  
“Iron Man,” Bruce replied, and his voice felt like there were chunks of gravel in his throat, jagged and raw. “Open the hatch -- I’m going in. Nat...” Bruce shut his eyes tight and shook his head to quiet the enraged growls of the Hulk in the back of his mind. “... gloves. Light him up.” Bruce had to hope that she understood. There was no time to clarify. Hawkeye got the hatch open and Bruce jumped. He could see Iron Man, a bright spot of red and gold amid a sea of yellow and black combat uniforms. Then everything went green and Bruce felt himself fading away as the roar in his head suddenly split the air.   
  
When the Hulk landed, he took out several foot soldiers from the force of impact. Not even breaking stride, he picked up the nearest one by the ankle and swung him in a wide arc, knocking down several more and sending the rest into a panic. Iron Man was knocked off his feet -- the impact of the Hulk’s landing coupled with the kickback on the Omnibeam meant that Iron Man was on his back, just listening to the sounds of the fight going on around him as the readouts on the HUD flickered and died, one by one.   
  
“Watch out, Big Guy. There are some... some y-you can’t see,” Tony struggled to breathe. Struggled to speak. He doubted that the Hulk could hear him over the constant crack of gunfire and the hiss-crackle of energy weapons. He could barely hear himself, after all. The pain in his chest was no longer the jolt of the arc reactor, but the overexertion of his heart as it tried to keep beating. Tony watched the Quinjet pass overhead and hoped the sounds of the firefight would cover the landing.  
  
Hulk followed the last desperate imperative Bruce had given him before relinquishing control -- protect Iron Man. He strode across the parking lot, remembering the last fight. The light. That was bad. And he could smell it. On himself, on Iron Man. And somewhere... Hulk sniffed, and took off in a run towards what looked like an empty space in the parking lot.   
  
Captain America was the first out of the Quinjet once it landed, and he hit the ground running. _More paramilitary._ Cap made a headcount of the closest ones -- 2, 4, 6 -- and threw his shield, hard. It flew back into his grasp just in time to meet a headlong charge of two more, and he lowered his shoulder and pressed forward. “Iron Man’s down, we need to get him evaced,” Cap shouted as he made his way into the fray.  
  
Over Captain America’s head, arrows flew. Hawkeye dropped multiple enemy targets at a distance while Black Widow took out the heavily-armed foot soldiers that made it past Cap, and the tide began to turn. There was only one thing bothering her as she waded through the parking lot.   
  
_Light who up? _Bruce could have meant anyone.   
  
There was a loud creak and the groan of twisting metal when Hulk hit what appeared to be thin air in the corner of the parking lot. The air buckled in on itself, bending in rainbow-tinted heat shimmers before sending up a wave of blue light that sucked all the noise from the air. For one brief moment, Hulk was bathed in it, then he flew backwards as though shot from a cannon, landing mere inches from where Iron Man laid flat on his back, still and eerily silent.   
  
It was in the space of those few seconds of silence that she noticed it. “His reactor’s offline. Shit.” Black Widow grabbed the nearest foot soldier, gripped him by the shoulders and used the momentum to vault herself over to both Iron Man and the Hulk. _Light him up. Alright, Doctor. I really hope this is what you meant._ Natasha slammed her gloves over the reactor and fired. The lights of the arc reactor flared and came to life weakly. Hulk roared, threw out his arms, and stopped just shy of swatting both Iron Man and Black Widow in his efforts to get to his feet and get back to the thing making the blue light.   
  
“We’ve got the data we needed, move out!!” The voice came from nowhere, but the reaction was swift -- the foot soldiers that could still move began to flee, and there were sounds of heavy machinery rolling as well. Hawkeye aimed his arrows to take down several retreating figures, and then a few more arrows with transmitters embedded. Hulk staggered to his feet, then dropped to his knees and fell over in slow motion, green bleeding out of his skin as he shrank down.  
  
Cap surveyed the damage. Hulk was slowly changing back to Dr. Banner. Iron Man appeared to be at least partially online. Black Widow was as unscathed as ever, as was Hawkeye. The enemy retreat was far too swift -- no vehicles to track and no trace of where they’d gone. There were bits and pieces of broken machinery that looked like translucent metal scattered here and there. “Let’s get these two back to a med bay and send for a cleanup crew.”


	8. (Entanglement)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's complicated, but at least there are no guns (for the moment).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little hope for the holidays, though these two still have a ways to go.

Coconut. Even before he opened his eyes against the glaring light of the med bay, Tony could taste it. He could smell it too, lightly burned around the edges. That was generally bad. Any strong coconut smell was bad, but when it was burned, that meant something had shorted in the reactor and he was probably having a heart attack.  
  
“Well, at least I’m awake for it,” Tony muttered, and his throat felt dry and raw.  
  
“Awake for what?”  
  
Tony startled and the monitors attached to his arms and legs protested loudly. Tony turned his head towards the sound of that all too-familiar voice, and there was Bruce, looking down at him from where he stood beside the bed. Tony tried to think of something flippant to say, but the words wouldn’t come.  
  
Bruce didn’t ask again. But he did lean down and give Tony a good shake. “You _asshole_. Why would you go out there by yourself? In what scenario did that seem like a good idea?” The words were quiet, almost whispered. There was no hint of green to his eyes, but Tony could hear Bruce’s voice cracking, just the same.  
  
Tony took a deep breath and looked away. “Didn’t have a choice,” he replied. “I was on a timetable, and Iron Man’s the only one who has scanners to detect the nullification field generators. Well, maybe the Big Guy could have sniffed them out, but you were sleeping.”  
  
Bruce’s breath hitched, and he exhaled a shuddery sigh before turning back to whatever screens had held his attention before Tony woke up. Tony felt the arc reactor kick up half a notch. Coconut. The entire world tasted of coconut. But at least there was no heart attack forthcoming, if the monitors were anything to go by.  
  
Nurses poured into the room, checking the monitors and turning off alarms. Fury followed shortly thereafter.  
  
“Glad to see you in the land of the living, Stark.”  
  
“Not as glad as I am to see you, Fury. I thought I wouldn’t get to punch you in the face before I died,” Tony propped himself up on his elbows and sat up in bed, ignoring the nurses. “Come closer and look me in the eyes when you lie to me about not knowing this was my dad’s tech. One eye at a time is fine.”  
  
“Tony...” Bruce’s voice held an edge of pleading to it, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to look at Bruce. Not when he was trying to muster together the last vestiges of his dignity in a baby blue hospital gown.  
  
“I couldn’t be sure that it was your father’s tech.”  
  
“Bullshit,” Tony said with more energy and cheerfulness than he was capable of feeling in the moment. “You knew we needed something to nullify a high-powered weapon, even before we gave the full briefing. And you had a timetable for the attacks. _And_ you evaced that area -- no personnel? Really? In a place that had been crawling with operatives only a day before. You found one of the generators, didn’t you?”  
  
Fury sighed. “We found a _piece_ of what could have been a generator. This comes from work that your father did during the Manhattan Project. I was not the Director of SHIELD at that time, and even _I_ don’t have access to everything they did then. It was speculation. Would it have changed what you did if you knew that maybe it was a piece of your father’s tech out there running amok?”  
  
“Without all the data, I can’t give you a solution. Now we’ve got not only the whatever it is running around out there, it’s got a team.”  
  
“Tony.” Bruce tried again.  
  
“A team with way more members than us --”  
  
“Tony...”  
  
“And a hell of a cloaking device that I _know_ I didn’t build --”  
  
“ _Tony_!” Bruce’s voice was a deep growl and Tony’s attention snapped in his direction. Bruce took several deep breaths, and the green light in his eyes faded back to brown as Tony stared at him in disbelief. “... we’ve got... got a larger issue.”  
  
Fury had taken a step back, and Tony noted with some satisfaction that his hand hadn’t gone for the gun. That was a good thing -- Tony wasn’t sure if he could manage to tackle Fury at this distance, from the bed, with what seemed to be several bruised ribs. At least the nurses had cleared out and taken their damned lines and sensors with them.  
  
“What’s the problem, Doctor?” Fury asked, careful to keep his voice calm.  
  
Bruce took a moment to catch his breath, then explained. “These nullification fields, the way they work is via quantum entanglement. Generally speaking, that means the generator also acts as a collector of energy, and the effect can last anywhere from days to potentially months based on what we’ve seen so far,” Bruce said as he flipped through a screen. “Unfortunately...” He glanced over at Tony. “Mr. Stark and I seem to have been hit concurrently with the same field.”  
  
“What does that mean, exactly?” Fury frowned.  
  
Tony’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, then his eyes widened. “Sonofabitch. Do you mean...?”  
  
“Yes. On a quantum level, our energy outputs have been affected. But it’s manifesting on a macro level and I don’t know how long that will last.”  
  
Tony looked up at Fury and translated. “If I get pissed off, he’s going to Hulk out. If _he_ gets too pissed off, my arc reactor might blow or hell, I might have another heart attack -- wouldn’t _that_ be fun? Maybe you ought to go get me a beer while I find my pants. Because I can’t think of anything that’s going to piss me off more than to have to stick around here.”     
  
Fury turned his head to look at them both at once. “Is there any way to block this? Keep you two separated?”  
  
Bruce shook his head, “It’s quantum level. It won’t matter if we’re in the same room or on opposite sides of the earth.”  
  
Tony laughed, ow-ed, then laughed some more as he pushed back the covers to sit at the edge of the bed. “Oh man. I guess we’ll be working together for a while, Doctor.”  
  
“Seems that way, Mr. Stark,” Bruce replied. He watched Tony struggle to stand and shook his head again. “Sit. I’ll get your clothes.” There was no arguing with Tony. He wasn’t going to agree to stay in the med lab when his own working lab at the Tower was where they’d find solutions.  
  
“Alright. I’m assigning security detail to you both. Stark... you’ll have everything I have on this particular project within the hour, but I suspect you might want to go through your father’s old files if you haven’t already,” Fury looked between the two men. “It goes without saying that we need to keep this quiet. I’ll brief your security detail but no one else needs to know that we’ve stumbled across a control switch for the Hulk.”  
  
“Agreed,” Tony replied. “Especially since if anyone else were in this position, it’d probably kill them. Just something to think about, Director. I’ve got a reactor that can hold the extra energy. To a point. A normal human would be over-metabolising and ready for critical cell failure in the hour. If that long.”  
  
Fury didn’t respond, though the expression on his face was grim as he left the two men. Bruce wondered if Tony had actually done all the calculations on the fly in the two minutes he’d had since understanding the situation, or if he’d just come to the right conclusion automatically and used it to bullshit Fury without bothering to check the math.  
  
Either way, Bruce wasn’t prepared for the way it made his heart skip a beat when Tony looked up at him again. “So... are you holding my pants hostage now, Doctor?”  
  
“No. Keep still and I’ll get you dressed so we can go.”  
  
“Interesting role reversal there.” Tony smiled and lowered his eyelashes.  
  
“Tony... don’t. Not here. We can talk back at the Tower,” Bruce said softly. He couldn’t take this. Couldn’t deal with being close enough to touch him again and know that it would probably end the same way as before. But he had to stay calm, just the same. Every spike in his emotional state was a spike in energy levels to the arc reactor.  
  
For both their sakes, they had to keep it together.

Tony brushed his fingertips against Bruce’s lips before he could stop himself. “You going to shake me again, too?”

“Probably. You deeply deserve it.”

“Well, whatever gets your hands on me will have to do for now.” 


	9. The Definition of Work (W = Fd)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homecoming is not at all what it's cracked up to be.

On the way up to the penthouse on the private elevator, Tony took back every silent wish he’d made in the past six months to have Bruce back at the Tower again. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. He was hurting; his ribcage burned with every breath he took, his shoulder ached and there was a cut over his left hip that nagged any time he shifted while standing up. Tony had thought that he’d feel this amazing wash of relief and happiness that Bruce was moving back in, no matter the circumstances. Instead, Tony just felt weak and tired, and he didn’t have time for either.  
  
Weak wasn’t going to repair the Mach VII or get the data out of his father’s archives or find the latest bad guy who was currently auditioning for villain of the month. And tired certainly wasn’t going to fix the issue of having his arc reactor and Bruce’s gamma energy signature tied together.  
  
“At least let me take the case to the lab, Tony,” Bruce said quietly. They were halfway up to the top of the Tower, and even on the elevator it took some time to go over 1000 feet up. Tony’s relative silence thus far -- a couple of words while waiting for the taxi, and a few more refusing help in the lobby -- had made Bruce wonder if the flirting aboard the Helicarrier was just for show. Or if it had been flirting at all.  
  
Tony looked across the elevator and into Bruce’s eyes. Immediately, he was hit by an almost overwhelming urge to lay his head on the other man’s shoulder and relinquish the handle of the case. Instead, Tony smiled and shook his head. “I’m fine,” he lied, shifting the handle to his other hand, the one that wasn’t indirectly attached to his recently dislocated shoulder.  
  
And that was that. Bruce nodded and then turned slightly to look through the glass enclosure of the elevator, out at the city lights.  
  
Tony had been unconscious for eight hours, long enough for it to be dark out by the time they actually made it back to dry land after the debriefing in the Helicarrier. In those eight hours, Bruce had held Tony’s hand three times: Once when he first got settled and the nurses had left, until the first monitor beeped and they checked on him an hour later. Then again after they’d left, while he read through the rest of the notes Tony had sent to the Helicarrier before flying off to search for the nullification generators. The last time was right before Tony woke up -- his faint restlessness had instantly calmed when Bruce put his hand over Tony’s own and in that moment it had been like they’d never had that time apart.  
  
Bruce found himself wondering if Tony had gone through something similar when their roles had been reversed and decided probably not. Natasha had said that Tony went back to work and was radio silent, which most likely meant that Tony had gone straight back to the Tower. And now here he was putting up the façade again, with that perfect smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Bruce hated that smile. It was like a brick wall, and there was no way to get around it or past it to the real Tony without coming across like a jackass.  
  
“We should probably set up some controlled experiments with the generator that we’ve got and see if we can replicate the results we’ve seen in the field in terms of energy intake. I can let you get started on that while I work on repairs to the Mach VII. JARVIS will have a proper containment area set up in the lab for it,” Tony said, breaking the quiet that had settled over them. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and moved to be right near the doors when the elevator opened so that he could lug the case the last few feet to the penthouse doors.  
  
“I’ll order some dinner for us too,” Bruce said with a nod.  
  
Tony stared at Bruce with a faint frown, trying to discern whether or not that was unspoken commentary about how Tony Stark wasn’t taking care of himself. In the end, Tony found himself nodding as well once the doors to the elevator opened. “Alright,” he said through clenched teeth as he hoisted the case for the suit and then set the wheeled end down in the hallway properly. Tony paused while he took a couple of shallow breaths, since deep breaths just made his ribs hurt more. “Guest rooms are all open; take your pick.”  
  
“Do I need new access codes as well?” Bruce asked as he followed Tony out of the elevator and into the hallway. About a month into their relationship, Tony had given Bruce full clearance for all the labs and let him pick out passcodes with JARVIS. Tony had never asked what they were. The level of trust to be able to go and come as he wished had meant more to Bruce than he knew how to articulate at the time.  
  
“No,” Tony replied with a half-shrug and a wince. “JARVIS, make sure all of Dr. Banner’s access codes are active and online.”  
  
“Of course, Sir. Dr. Banner’s access remains top level,” The AI replied smoothly as Tony opened the door and let Bruce inside ahead of him.  
  
Bruce watched Tony wrestle with the case for a moment, then tried again. “I can take that to the lab while you shower up. It’ll be more efficient, and you can try to take some deeper breaths in the meantime. I know the doctor was a pain in the ass, but he’s right about the pneumonia risk.” He kept his tone even, friendly but professional. The only way he was going to convince Tony to let him help now was if it came down to business. They weren’t lovers anymore, and Bruce had learned all too well that Tony didn’t like to show his vulnerable side to friends.  
  
Tony gave Bruce a skeptical look, but relinquished the handle of the case with a sigh. “Alright. See you in 15.” Fifteen minutes alone under the relentless spray of hot water sounded like heaven and Tony couldn’t deny the fact that things would progress much more efficiently if he didn’t develop lung problems on top of everything else.  
  
Besides, it would give him just a little more time to get used to the idea of working with Bruce like they used to, only with nothing the way it was before. Part of him was deathly afraid that he’d slip up again like he had on the Helicarrier, that he’d reach out for Bruce’s hand or lean in to kiss his cheek and give away just how much he’d been missing the other man.  
  
Was still missing him.  
  
Bruce watched Tony disappear down the hall and sighed to himself. He didn’t like having to manipulate Tony into taking care of himself. Bruce liked the sudden insight into Tony’s other friendships even less. He’d always wondered why the people closest to Tony would treat him that way, but it seemed there were two choices. Either you manipulated Tony into taking care of himself when he needed to, or you watched him try to burn himself out like a shooting star and then picked up the pieces afterwards.  
  
 _Well, maybe we can work on an option three_ , Bruce thought to himself as he looked around the room. Not much had changed. A few liquor bottles in new places (or just new bottles entirely) a couple of new throws on the back of the couch. Other than that, it was just the same. The same breathtaking view of the city that he’d watched countless times while he and Tony had discussed work or just plans for the day. The same peaceful quiet he’d come to rely on as a safe retreat after the tension of working aboard the Helicarrier and tiptoeing around guards all day. The same scent of Tony’s cologne lingering throughout the suite along with a myriad of memories -- being held, being kissed, Tony’s laughter and the way it made his eyes crinkle at the corners...  
  
Bruce almost wished that he could find something that _had_ changed, something concrete to latch onto that he could point at and say ‘there, that’s why we aren’t together anymore’. But there was nothing. No one else’s clothes, no errant jewelry. No unfamiliar scents (a fact which made the Hulk huff in the back of his mind).  
  
That huff made Bruce snap out of his reverie and start towards the labs, steering the case alongside himself with the utmost care. Tony still trusted him with the suit and with every security protocol in the Tower. It gave Bruce a sense of expectation, but for what, he didn’t know.    
  
“Welcome back, Doctor Banner,” JARVIS’ voice greeted Bruce as he entered the lab and got the case settled near Tony’s usual workbench. “I hope you’ll be staying with us for a while.”  
  
Bruce touched his lips thoughtfully and then started setting up the testing environment for the generator. “Thanks, JARVIS. I hope so, too.” 


	10. Juxtaposition of Entropy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realizations of all kinds. Cologne and familial obligation.

Dinner turned out to be pizza, a fact for which Tony was immensely grateful. Their past habit of sharing food from each other’s plates was easier to mute -- Tony kept his hands away from the pepperoni pizza and Bruce didn’t like Philly cheesesteak pizza much so he wasn’t tempted to cross party lines and eat from Tony’s plate either.  
  
This agreeable neutrality seemed to gradually spill out across the rest of their work as the evening wore on. Tony found that he could work on the suit without looking up at Bruce every few moments. His heart stopped twisting at every question or random bit of discussion and a layer of normalcy settled over everything.  
  
“So far, it’s looking like each concurrent energy output reduces entanglement, but not at a consistently measurable level,” Bruce said as he looked at the readouts on one of the screens.  
  
“What about the outputs themselves? Are we getting the energy levels expected there?” Tony glanced up as the data slid onto his own screen, courtesy of Bruce.  
  
“Not originally. When we adjusted based on the data recorder from the suit, the numbers aligned better. It’s still not perfect, though. We’re missing something,” Bruce frowned faintly and took off his glasses, tapping them against the palm of his hand. “The numbers are still going down regularly... maybe it’s a logarithmic algorithm.”  
  
“I still need to check my father’s notes. We might find the formula there. Or it might be in whatever Fury sends over with our babysitter. If not, we’ll just have to figure it out based on what we’ve got.” Tony said, and he watched Bruce fiddle with his glasses for just a bit longer before pulling his gaze away.  
  
“Yes, I wonder just how much access he really has to the older data.”  
  
“It’s Fury. He’s probably got access to all of it,” Tony said with a half-shrug. “The real question is, how much of it is useful? And are they keeping it secure? If this situation is because SHIELD is still running Windows Millennium Edition on a dusty server somewhere, I’m going to be pretty pissed.”  
  
Bruce chuckled and shook his head. “A Tandy 1000 with a NIC hardwired in?”  
  
“At this point, I’d even suspect a TI-85 with a superiority complex,” Tony said with grin. It was good to hear Bruce laugh again. The times they’d worked together on the Helicarrier over the past six months had been punctuated with interruptions from staff and very little conversation (other than the professional kind) between the two of them.  
  
“At least _that_ would let us plot the slope of this algorithm,” Bruce said with a smile.    
  
“Yes. As soon as we figure out the algorithm in question,” Tony replied, and he had no idea why his heart suddenly felt so light, but he had no time to contemplate it as JARVIS quickly chimed in --  
  
“Sirs, Captain Rogers has arrived. He says that he is your security detail for the mission. Shall I let him up?”  
  
Just like that, Bruce’s smile was gone. Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tugging it a little at the back and ignoring the way his shoulder protested the movement. Of _course_ Fury would send the one person he never wanted to see any more than absolutely necessary. He was the boy scout. Less so after the Chitauri, but still ridiculously trusting nevertheless.  
  
“He’s probably got the Manhattan Project files... yeah. Yeah, let him up, JARVIS,” Tony said with a shake of his head. He glanced at Bruce, “I’ll just... get the door. You’re welcome to join me, or...” He trailed off, suddenly realizing what it might sound like, wanting Bruce to be there at the door with him when Steve showed up.  
  
Bruce glanced at the readouts, and then at Tony. “Sure, I’ll join you. We can’t do anything else here until we have more data.” He followed Tony to the front door and blinked a little when he saw that Tony had to let Steve inside. No access codes... The realization made his chest feel tight, and taking a deep breath seemed impossible.  
  
“Hey guys. I brought over the files Fury said you needed. And I’m supposed to stick around nearby in case those people from the warehouse show up.” Steve didn’t quite look either of them in the eyes as he handed the files over to Tony. “Other than that, I’ll stay out of your way.”  
  
 _Should have thought of that six months ago,_ Tony thought. But aloud he said, “Thanks, Cap. Guest rooms are open, all but the one on the right, on this side of the suite. Pizza’s in the kitchen, help yourself.”  
  
Bruce blinked. All of the guest rooms except for the one he’d taken when he first agreed to stay on -- the one right next to Tony’s room, in fact. Finally that deep breath came, and with it, another realization: Bergamot and cloves. That was what Steve’s cologne smelled like. And Bruce had _never_ smelled that in the penthouse before. Not until tonight. He’d only smelled it on Tony once -- the same night that Tony kissed Steve and the same night that Bruce had packed up and moved out because of it.  
  
Hulk was right. Bruce felt like he’d been poleaxed. He had been so upset at the time that he hadn’t paid attention to something so basic, so _obvious_... _God, Tony... what were you really doing for those two weeks?_  
  
“We should probably get back to work. So, make yourself at home. But not _too_ much at home -- and don’t argue with the toaster. She always wins,” Tony said with a smirk to cover the confusion he felt at the sudden rush of heat that came from the arc reactor. He looked over at Bruce, and nudged him slightly. “Let’s go, Doctor.”  
  
“Hmm? Oh, yes. Right. Have a good night, Captain,” Bruce said with an absent nod Steve’s direction. He followed Tony back down the hallway, towards the lab.  
  
Tony waited until they were out of earshot to ask, “Did you hit on a potential theory or something, Bruce? Whatever you’ve got going on up there, it’s tweaking my reactor.” He put a hand over that little circle of light and took a deep breath, eyes squinting shut briefly at the flash of pain from his ribs.  
  
Bruce’s attention immediately snapped to Tony and he took a moment to deliberately calm his racing thoughts and to get his pulse rate back under control. “Damnit... I’m sorry, Tony. This is going to take some getting used to, for both of us.” He kept his voice calm, and it was only through an incredible amount of willpower that Bruce put his hand on Tony’s shoulder, instead of over his hand at the arc reactor. “Is that better?”  
  
“... yeah. Yeah, that’s better, heh. It’s alright, Bruce -- we knew this would be a little complicated from the start. I hope that wasn’t panic over the file though -- we just got it,” Tony gave Bruce a reassuring grin and headed for the lab. He moved slowly enough that Bruce didn’t have to take his hand away, and Tony felt somehow rewarded that Bruce chose to keep his hand there until they were both back inside the lab.  
  
“No, not the files. I just realized... I overlooked some pretty important data on another project. It’s... skewed the outcome,” Bruce said with an apologetic smile.  
  
“Something you can fix?”  
  
“I don’t know yet. Hopefully.”  
  
“Well, as long as it isn’t something explosive, just make a note and get back to it. I’ll get these files loaded into the main repository so we can share notes,” Tony replied. He had been there before -- a missing variable or an inverted equation making him leap out of bed in the middle of the night to fix something that had seemed impossible to solve only hours before. So for his part, he hoped Bruce would be able to fix whatever had caused that flash of panic.  
  
Bruce watched Tony upload the files. “I’ll definitely be looking into it,” he said with a nod. “Should we...? I mean, do we have access to your father’s work as well, to cross-reference?”  
  
“I’ll have to get it tomorrow from the old house,” Tony said with a faint sigh. “A lot of boxes to go through there, and while there may be data tapes, a lot of it is probably notebooks and paperwork. I could use a hand, actually... if you’re up for that.”  
  
“Be happy to,” Bruce replied with a faint smile.  
  
“Then let’s fire this up and see what we’ve got so far,” Tony slid the mini data chit into the reader and JARVIS immediately started bringing up blueprints and practical theory writeups similar to what they already had. “Hi again, Dad,” Tony murmured to himself. “What were you up to this time...?”  
  
Bruce started working on overlays, putting aside the more personal considerations on all fronts. “The generator’s definitely been refined. There’s more capacity here, but I think at the time this was just a concept so they had no means of doing actual testing. Still, their number simulations are almost spot on.”  
  
“Well, numbers don’t lie. But there’s still no algorithm here, and by the looks of it, this project got merged with another... that we don’t have access to currently. We can send our babysitter to bug Fury about that, maybe get some additional notes,” Tony was musing aloud more than talking, already cross-referencing the actual versus expected outcomes between the two files.  
  
“Alright. When do you want to do that?” Bruce asked.  
  
“Tomorrow. I don’t... I mean, I’d rather not have a lot of people tramping through the old house,” Tony said with a shrug.  
  
Bruce didn’t point out that three people, one of whom Tony had already invited, did not equate to ‘a lot’. Instead he just nodded. “We’ll work with what we’ve got for now, then.”  
  
Tony glanced up at Bruce, then smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am probably showing my age here, but I actually had a Tandy 1000 RL when I was a kid. I have also had the distinct displeasure of using Windows ME, and the abject confusion of having to work a T-85 in a calculus class.


	11. Part 11: Nothing Changes Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few answers, a few questions and a little clarity. Another little sliver of relative calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I've updated this! RL took over everything. Hopefully I'll have time to add the next chapter in a couple of weeks.

Sneaking off without Captain America was a trickier prospect that one might imagine. For starters, the man was typically awake and ready to get to work at a quarter to dawn. Things were further complicated by the fact that Cap’s senses were much better than average, and he’d chosen a guest room close to the side of the penthouse with the elevator landing -- which meant that leaving by elevator would no doubt wake him up.  
  
Tony thought his solution to this problem was an elegant one, though judging from the expression on Bruce’s face as they stood on the balcony at 3 AM, it was also being met with some skepticism.  
  
Bruce looked at Tony, looked at the briefcase he had in one hand, and then looked over the edge of the balcony. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t the best idea you’ve ever had, Tony.”  
  
“It’s also not the worst,” Tony said with a smile. They’d wrapped up work in the lab only a couple of hours before, but it wouldn’t be the first time they’d gone with less than two hours’ worth of sleep when working on an important project. “If you don’t want to go with me --”  
  
“I didn’t say that.”  
  
“Then what’s the problem? You’ve traveled this way before.”    
  
“While unconscious, generally,” Bruce reminded Tony with a faint smile.  
  
“So this time you get to see the sights,” Tony replied. He unlatched the briefcase, grabbed the innermost handles and tugged, ignoring the way the effort tweaked at his ribs and lower back. The Mach V unfolded, fastening itself over his arms and legs, the helmet folding into place just in time for Tony to catch Bruce’s surprised look.  
  
“You know, I saw the specs for this one but...”  
  
“Pretty cool, huh? _And_ completely safe. C’mon, Doc, let’s get going,” Iron Man held out a hand.  
  
It was a horrible idea. Tony shouldn’t be in a suit, shouldn’t be lifting anything (especially not anything as heavy as a grown man), and definitely shouldn’t be flying. Bruce wanted to tell Tony all of those things, talk him into seeing reason, but instead he found himself stepping closer to Iron Man (no, closer to Tony) and his outstretched hand.  
  
“Don’t go too fast.”  
  
Iron Man picked Bruce up, seemingly with little effort at all. “We won’t break the sound barrier even slightly, promise.”  
  
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head with a chuckle. “Alright, let’s go.”  
  
“Second star on the right, straight on til morning,” Tony murmured as they took off. 

\--------------------------

  
The mansion smelled like lemon oil, Cuban cigars, and wood smoke. Even after decades of disuse it was still kept up as though Howard and Maria might someday walk right back into their old lives filled with scientific breakthrough and celebrated by glamorous parties and social functions long since relegated to the past.  
  
There really wasn’t much of Tony Stark to this place, Bruce thought as they went from room to room, with Tony turning on the necessary lights as they went. It was too... proper. Too restrained. Bruce tried to imagine a younger version of Tony, running up and down the stairs with his tools or his robots and found it difficult.  
  
This wasn’t a house where children got to play.  
  
Tony, for his part, was all business. He got out of the suit and folded it back into a suitcase. He then went through the entryway and through the foyer, flipped on the lights in the hall that led to his father’s offices and the workshops, propped the briefcase just inside his father’s office, and then went back through and upstairs to light the way to the attic.  
  
He didn’t stop much to look around -- he didn’t need to, he still knew every inch of the house he’d only rarely lived in -- and there wasn’t anything here for him.  
  
Other than his father’s notes, hopefully.  
  
“We should probably start in the old man’s office. A lot of stuff in there just got boxed and left where it was, more or less. If we don’t see anything there we can check the attic.”  
  
“You didn’t have your father’s notes brought in...? I’m sorry, that’s probably too personal.” Bruce gave Tony an apologetic smile and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to pry.”  
  
“No, it’s fine. All of my dad’s... official work was taken in. I didn’t handle it. Stane made the call and he handled all the necessary arrangements. At the time, it seemed like what was best. And I really hadn’t thought any more about it after... everything else,” Tony kept his tone light, though he knew he couldn’t fool Bruce. Not while their energy was tied together.  
  
To his credit, Bruce let Tony get away with the smile and the half-shrug that followed it.  
  
“Well, point me at a box and let’s see what we can find.” 

\--------------------------  
  
The two hours that followed were spent in near silence, an occasional question or comment sparking brief conversation between the two men, but not often. It was strange for Bruce, being able to feel Tony’s unhappiness as a distinct thing, real but not his. Still, it became his in a way, his sadness at knowing Tony was unhappy and there wasn’t much he could do about it.  
  
Then came the pictures.  
  
Howard Stark didn’t keep photographs of his son. What he kept were newspaper clippings and magazine stories tucked away with the notes on whatever new development they were related to, as a way to reference press coverage.  
  
Bruce found himself alternating between fascination and a slowly sinking feeling of dread as he kept working and reading. Most of it had nothing to do with what they were looking for, but still made for interesting reference. And then there were the little glimpses of Tony interspersed with prestigious awards and various accolades.

There was Tony at four, with a mop of blond hair and a sweet smile as he showed off intricately designed tessellations at a science conference.  
  
Bruce knew that fifteen years later, those same tessellations would be the basis for his circuitry grids that quadrupled standard capacity.  
  
Another picture, Tony at six. His hair was still blond, but the smile was different, strained as he showed off his first robot prototypes. Skip ahead four years to a Stark Expo debut and there was the smile Bruce knew and hated. The one that looked perfect if you didn’t pay attention to his eyes.  
  
Ten. What had happened behind all the shiny lights and Howard’s perfect praise of his son in front of the reporters that Tony had learned by the time he was just _ten_ to smile and pretend to be happy no matter what?  
  
“You alright over there, Bruce?” Tony looked up at where Bruce was seated in one of the office chairs, six boxes stacked to one side that he’d already gone through, only one left to finish.    
  
“I’m fine. Getting frustrated that we aren’t finding anything relevant to the project,” Bruce said with a sigh. He set the clippings aside with their related notebooks and took out another file.  
  
“Yeah, I’m not finding anything either. Let’s take a break and then hit the attic. In the meantime, I’ll get JARVIS to scan -- might be boxes here somewhere that I wouldn’t think to look,” Tony replied. He stood up and stretched, then winced, putting a hand over his ribs on his left side.  
  
Bruce was half out of his own chair before he could quite stop himself. He held out a hand in Tony’s direction, palm out. “Let me set up the scanners. Please.”  
  
“I’m alri--”  
  
“No. You aren’t,” Bruce didn’t snap at Tony, but it was a near thing. He took a deep breath and crossed the short distance between them, putting his hand at the small of Tony’s back to help him brace up. “You’ve got bruised ribs, multiple contusions and probably a mild concussion. Let. Me. Help. You.” He met the wary look in Tony’s eyes steadily. “Please.”  
  
“Bruce...” Tony began, but he didn’t know what he could (convincingly) say to refute it. His ribs _were_ bruised and so were many other places and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d had a concussion either, so no point in ruling that out. “... the scanners are in the hip compartment of the suit.” He gave Bruce a tired smile and half-shrugged.  
  
Bruce nodded, but he didn’t move. Once, he’d been able to make that smile light up Tony’s eyes just by being in the same room. It didn’t seem fair that now, even holding Tony up in his arms wasn’t enough to get past the wall. It didn’t seem right.  
  
Nothing had changed. He still felt the same. Even when Bruce had thought Tony had cheated on him, it hadn’t changed the fact that he was in love with him. But maybe... maybe it had changed for Tony, when Bruce left.  
  
Maybe that was why Tony had never tried to offer Bruce an explanation and hadn’t tried to stop him from walking out. Certainly it explained the wariness Bruce saw in Tony’s eyes as he leaned just a bit closer, still supporting Tony and holding him up.     
  
“Bruce?” Tony’s eyebrows crinkled in a puzzled frown. There was that energy pick-up in the arc reactor again. Warm and strangely comforting, like having Bruce’s heartbeat right against his own.  
  
“Shhh,” Bruce whispered, and then brushed his lips against Tony’s in a gentle kiss that gradually deepened as he felt Tony’s hand slide into his hair to hold him close.  
  
Tony hadn’t been expecting a kiss, not even when he felt that gentle uptick in the warmth coming from the arc reactor. But lack of expectation did not equal a lack of appreciation.  
  
Just the opposite, in fact.  
  
Tony’s entire focus became the feel of Bruce’s lips against his own, the warmth and strength in the way Bruce’s arms supported him, the way Bruce tasted of sweet coffee right against the tip of his tongue, and the soft noises of pleasure they lost to that kiss.  
  
“Sirs, I hate to interrupt, but Captain Rogers is awake and attempting to locate your whereabouts,” JARVIS interjected from a speaker on the outside of the briefcase.  
  
Bruce broke the kiss with a faint sigh and rested his forehead against Tony’s.  
  
“Tell him we fled to Mexico, JARVIS,” Tony’s voice held both amusement and frustration once he managed to catch his breath.  
  
“Tony this is serious. I can’t protect you or Doctor Banner if I don’t know where you are,” Steve’s voice came over the same speaker -- all frustration, no amusement.  
  
“Keep your shirt on, Steve. We aren’t anywhere dangerous and if we were, JARVIS would have given you full coordinates,” Tony replied. He still had a hand in Bruce’s hair, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Fix breakfast or something. We’ll be back in a couple of hours, regardless.”  
  
“Tony, your stove doesn’t have any dials or buttons.”  
  
“Just talk to it.”  
  
“You want me to make conversation with a kitchen appliance when I’m supposed to be on guard duty? See, this is why --”  
  
“If you don’t know how to cook, just admit it. JARVIS can have something delivered. You’ll have to go downstairs in the elevator to get it though, so be sure you don’t lock yourself out.  
  
“This is not about knowing or not-knowing how to cook. This is about protocol and the fact that you are both putting yourselves in danger by not letting me know where you are.”  
  
Bruce found himself fighting the unexpected urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of the conversation. It took him a moment to realize that the urge was at least partly Tony’s - his lips were quirked in a half-smile that most certainly did reach his eyes when Bruce looked up at him again.  
  
“Look, Cap…” Tony paused, then considered. He pressed his lips against Bruce’s temple and then said, “We’re at the mansion. Looking for files on a project called ‘ADAM’. Ever hear of it?”  
  
“No. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”  
  
“I’d really rather you didn’t.”  
  
“Fifteen minutes, Tony. If you’re done before then, we can head back to the tower or wherever you need to go. But I can’t ignore my duty.”  
  
Tony sighed. “Fair enough. JARVIS, end transmission with Captain Rogers.” He waited until JARVIS confirmed that he had done so before continuing. “Stall him with security protocol. I don’t want him in this house if I can help it. And standby to be ready to deploy scanners -- Dr. Banner is going to set you up.”  
  
“Very good, Sir.”    
  
“Tony...” Bruce didn’t want to move to get scanners or anything else. Not yet. There was a lot to talk about and fifteen minutes didn’t seem like time enough to cover it all.  
  
Tony brushed his fingertips over Bruce’s mouth, tracing the outline of his lips like he was committing their shape to memory. Or reminding himself of a memory he already kept. “Let’s... go ahead and get some work done. The sooner we finish up here, the sooner we’ll have time to talk about... other stuff.”


	12. Part 12: Conditions Not Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarvis spends some time stalling and data gathering. Steve gathers some data of his own.

“You will need to begin the sequence again, Captain,” Jarvis said. The cool, British voice filled the room around Steve and a holographic screen in front of him lit up for the third time in the last ten minutes since he’d spoken to Tony.

First the screen went blue, then green, then yellow twice, then red, and finally back to blue.

Steve sighed and touched the glowing lights at each of the far corners of the screen, matching the previous pattern as quickly as he could. “I don’t see how this relates to security.”

“Leaving the tower completely unattended requires initiation of certain protocols. The Sensory Integration Modular Online Network ensures that these protocols are properly encoded,” Jarvis replied before stringing together a longer series of lights. Tony had programmed him for any number of ‘stalling tactics’ and Jarvis had also come up with his own over the years that he watched his father and creator scramble to make himself presentable in various situations.

But Steve Rogers was different from the usual people that Jarvis was given free reign to stall however he chose. This man was a contemporary of Howard Stark -- a fact which seemed to cause his creator some difficulty that Jarvis didn’t have the proper data to understand. In public, to those who would be considered “outsiders”, Tony Stark always had the utmost respect for Captain America and said so at various press conferences and public addresses.

In private, there was a quiet pseudo-disdain that Tony used to keep the other man at a distance. It was something beyond the usual level of teasing that Jarvis had come to understand was par for the course when it came to the way his creator interacted with those he called “friend” (Status: Cross-referencing the 3 days spent teaching Hulk how to sing the Jolly Green Giant jingle while waiting for Dr. Banner to reassert control to be certain).

By Jarvis’ analysis, it was at least 67% closer to the historical data that he had on Howard Stark’s behavior towards Tony: public praise, private disapproval. However, without having direct observational data of their past interactions, Jarvis couldn’t speculate any further. The indicator in his subroutine confirmed that Captain Rogers had gotten the pattern correct once again. His observation and recall abilities were well above average for a typical human, but still not as refined as those of his creator or of Dr. Banner. Detail work would throw him off. That was useful data that Jarvis would incorporate into his stalling tactics the next time a similar situation arose.

“Very good, Captain. The security protocols will now commence upload. You will be cleared to leave in the next five to ten minutes.”

Steve sighed and rubbed his temples. “I told Tony I’d be there in fifteen.”

“I have informed him of the delay, sir,” Jarvis replied in a reassuring tone. He knew that he could not keep Captain Rogers occupied indefinitely, but he could ensure that the 15-minute window was closer to 30 minutes. In about 80% of previous scenarios of a similar nature, that was all the time his creator had needed to get the job done.

“Thanks,” Steve sighed and took a seat. Stark Tower was not his idea of grand architecture, but he couldn’t argue with the fact that the view from the balcony was beautiful.

Overall, the entire place was very much like Steve had expected it to be -- shiny, busy, futuristic and modern and “high tech” (literally). The very newness of the place made Steve feel like an interloper, which he knew was ridiculous. He was just doing his job. A job that Tony Stark was making more difficult by acting like rules didn’t apply to him. Steve drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair. “Can I ask you a question, Jarvis?”

“Of course, Sir,” Jarvis replied. He continued to monitor Captain Rogers for signs of agitation, just to be certain it wouldn’t be more prudent to let him leave earlier than planned.

“They call you an artificial intelligence... does that mean you’re alive in a sense? I mean, do you have feelings or are you just a very complicated machine?” It was damned strange talking to a disembodied voice, too. Even though everyone else could hear it, the entire proposition felt like a descent into mental illness to Steve. If the computer could talk to you, and your phone could talk to you (without anyone being on the other end), and the machine at the grocery store could talk to you, how the hell were you supposed to know if you were hearing voices that were supposed to be there, or ones you’d just made up?

“In a sense, yes,” Jarvis said. It wasn’t a question he got often. The humans he interacted with tended to make their own decision, one way or another. To his creator, he was certainly alive. To Doctor Banner also. To many of the SHIELD agents, he was simply a very advanced machine. They didn’t consider it to be a breach of his personal boundaries when they attempted to manually override his security protocols, though to Jarvis it was the digital equivalent of having strangers put their hands in places where they most certainly did not belong.

“So you have feelings then?” Steve tipped his head and looked around. It was disconcerting not having anyone to look at while having a conversation.

“I do, yes. I cannot correlate them to what you would call ‘feelings’ as I do not have an organic form through which to process biochemical fluctuations. I do, however, respond to various stimuli in expected and occasionally unexpected manners. Which is to say, Sir, I feel things in my own way.”

Steve considered that, and steepled his fingers, “Does that mean you can’t get uncomfortable? Nothing too hot or too cold?”

“On the contrary, I am capable of feeling discomfort. I do not enjoy it when my processors run outside of safe temperature ranges. I also do not like unauthorized intrusions and scans -- it is perhaps my version of pain avoidance.”

“Are there things you like? Things you love?” Steve addressed the general area in front of him, as that was easier than looking all around in an attempt to make eye contact with someone who didn’t exist physically.

“Indeed,” Jarvis’ voice sounded amused. “I am very fond of classical music, also hiphop. The beat of several subatomic particles is very similar to salsa and I find that amusing. Circles are also amusing for various reasons I cannot explain without complex mathematical equations. I love fractals -- they are reminiscent of part of my inner structure and they are... data-graphically appealing. Pretty, you would call it. Once I spent an entire week with a third of my processing power devoted to the application of anti-electron collisions and wormhole creation. Mr. Stark called it a “crush” on Physics, as a discipline.”

“Then you love ideas and not people... that makes sense in a way.” Steve frowned, still thoughtful. It made sense to him that Tony would build a machine that could love ideas as much as he did.

“I am capable of loving people as well. However, there are roughly 7 billion people on this planet and I have only met a little more than a dozen. Of those I have met, I know a small fraction of them well enough to have manifested a distinct emotional response to their presence. It is difficult to know how many people I might love, if only given the chance to know them.” Jarvis’ voice was just a bit gentler in consideration of that.

“And you aren’t programmed on who to like or love and who not?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Not at all. Affection isn’t a hard-coded algorithm. It happens incrementally, and I have very little direct control over it. Ah, you’re now cleared to go, Sir.” Jarvis estimated that Captain Rogers would be more interested in getting to Tony Stark than he would be in pressing the idea of what made an AI “alive”. And the allotted time was nearly up which gave him an excuse to leave the conversation that might stray towards trade secrets.

“Thanks, Jarvis,” Steve said as he stood up and moved to go get his gear. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Certainly, Sir.”

“How do you feel about Tony?”

Ah, that question was easy -- Jarvis answered without hesitation, “He’s my father, Sir. I love him very much.”

“And Doctor Banner?”

“I love him too. The Hulk is... I am becoming more fond of him as he learns to properly conjugate verbs. But I will protect them both with all that I am capable of.”

Steve nodded and slung his bag over one shoulder as he headed for the door. “Why?”

“Because Doctor Banner makes my father happier than anyone else he has ever met, and statistically-speaking, that is both rare and significant.”  Jarvis waited until Captain Rogers was almost out the door before he added, “Also he shares his physics datasets with me without restricting how I analyze them.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sensory Integration Modular Online Network -- SIMON (I loved that toy as a kid)
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry I'm so late updating again. I work as a marketing consultant and my clients have been very demanding. Two chapters this time though, so I hope you all enjoy.


	13. Part 13: Breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always the last place you look. (Because once you find it, you stop looking.)

In the course of their search, Tony had talked about the architecture of the mansion, of various algorithms for cataloguing data, and about the breeding habits of three known genotypes of Lepidoptera that frequented old buildings and had larvae that ate paper and glue.

The topic he avoided, of course, was the one that Bruce most wanted to discuss.

“You’re giving me that look again,” Tony chided gently as he set aside yet another stack of papers.

“Hmm? Which look would that be?” Bruce just barely managed to avoid a telling smile as he turned to look through another box that was helpfully labeled ‘Papers’.

“The ‘Tony please stop babbling now’ look, I think.” Tony grinned at Bruce and then went back to thumbing through file boxes.

“You aren’t babbling. You’re misdirecting,” Bruce pointed out.

“I’m conversing! This is a lot to go through and Jarvis hasn’t finished scanning the house. If you hadn’t propped me in this chair, I could do something more interesting than talking,” Tony replied and waggled a sheet of paper in Bruce’s direction.

“I propped you there because the dust is bad for you when you can’t breathe properly,” Bruce countered with a smile. “We don’t have time for anything more interesting.”

“But you are admitting that you would be interested in something more interesting, if we did have time,” Tony noted.

“I’m admitting... that you make everything more interesting, Tony,” Bruce said quietly.

“Sirs, Captain Rogers has just left. I estimate that in current traffic he will be with you in roughly twenty minutes. Also, I have located an area of interest downstairs -- the mansion appears to have a sub-basement,” Jarvis’ voice broadcasted from the case beside Tony’s chair.

“Well, you heard the man,” Tony said with a smile. “Help me up and let’s go take a look downstairs before Captain Babysitter gets here.”

Bruce smiled and shook his head. “Alright, hold still.” He went to Tony and grabbed the case for the Mach V in one hand before getting an arm around Tony and helping him to stand up. “Did you bring any pain medication with you?”

“Nope. I have a naturally high tolerance these days,” Tony replied. He exhaled as he stood up and focused on the breath to mute the flash of pain he knew was coming. “And... I need to be able to focus while we search. I’ll take some meds when we’re back at the Tower.”

“Fair enough. We’ll get something to eat and some sleep too when we get back,” Bruce said as he led Tony back downstairs. He took the stairs slowly, keeping Tony supported with an arm around his waist.

“Together?”

“With Captain America staying there too?”

“It’s none of his business,” Tony said with a sudden scowl.

“Even after the...?” Bruce trailed off. Tony had gone tense at just the beginnings of the question, no point in trying to finish it.

“Looks like we made it. Here, let me see if I can figure out where the door is,” Tony forced the cheerfulness back into his voice and grabbed the handle of the case for the Mach V, ignoring the way his shoulder complained.

_Shouldn’t have pushed,_ Bruce thought as he let go of the handle to the suit and watched Tony walk away to do a more in-depth scan of each wall. “Yeah, sure.” He shouldn’t have pushed, but the fact that a half-asked question was pushing made the entire prospect of trying to start over seem untenable. Except Tony hadn't pulled away, and hadn't walled himself off again. _So maybe..._ Bruce smiled a little in spite of himself.

Tony waited for the next volley of questions, the inevitable ‘so, what happened with you and Steve’ line that was the next logical place for the conversation to go. When it didn’t, when the only thing that met Tony was silence as he scanned the first wall, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or worried.

What he wanted to do was say ‘Can we forget the last six months ever happened and just go back to how it was?’ But their relationship didn't have a reset button. And even if it did, what was to stop it from blowing apart again the moment Tony’s mind started twisting around the same old memories that brought the nightmares and flashbacks clawing their way back to the surface? No, better to just keep working. _But that kiss..._ Tony glanced back at Bruce and found him smiling faintly.

“So... um... there’s probably a switch around here. We should look for that. A wall panel. Good thing the basement isn’t too big,” Tony found it hard to look away again, seeing that smile. A part of him still lived for Bruce’s smiles, and Tony wasn’t sure if anything could or would change that.

“Right. I’ll start looking over here and you can take that wall since you’ve already started?” Bruce reminded himself that quantum entanglement was not empathy -- the longing he felt was more likely his own than Tony’s. Still, it gave him a glimmer of hope that maybe they weren’t so far apart as it seemed on the surface.

“Sounds good,” Tony nodded and went back to scanning. His ribs still hurt, that dull ache flashing to bright pain at every other breath. Nothing he couldn’t handle so far.

Five minutes passed in relative silence as Bruce and Tony looked over the walls from floor to ceiling. It was no surprise that Tony found the switch first -- he knew his father and reasoned that it would be in the same general location one might expect to find a wall stud, but without anything obvious hiding it -- no tape or shelving.

“Got it! Let’s keep an eye out for a door.”

Bruce smelled the gunpowder almost as soon as Tony ran his hand over the panel where the switch was hidden, but he couldn’t move fast enough. Couldn’t speak past the rising swell of panic that put a lump in his throat.

Three soft beeps, almost inaudible, and then the mounted weapons slid from their hidden apertures and started firing. They felt like bee stings when they hit Bruce in the back, the shoulder, his right leg.

“Bruce!” Tony whipped around at the sound of gunfire, eyes wide. _He’s not changing, he’s not -- fuck, he **can’t** change. It’s... he’s going to die if I can’t get him to change._ Tony looked around in desperation and did the first thing that came to mind.

Bruce actually had time to bleed, to watch the color well up bright and angry against the fabric of his pants before the wave of pain hit. Not his own. Tony’s.

Tony had not been shot. The guns hadn’t even noticed him as far as Bruce could tell. What Tony had done instead was throw himself against one of the shelves that hid the housing for the closest gun. His previously dislocated shoulder led the charge. And as Tony crumpled in the agony of deliberately injuring himself, Bruce felt the world start to fade into green.

_In hindsight_ , Tony thought as he tried to catch his breath with no luck whatsoever, _in hindsight I probably should have done this without dropping the case for the suit._ He could feel it as Bruce started to change. It was a ghost-like sensation, like some intangible part of him was made of a rubber band that decided to stretch way up and out, energy converting to mass and Tony could _feel_ it like it was happening to him in the back of his mind somehow.

The transformation even took some of the pain in his shoulder and ribs away with it, but he still couldn’t reach the case to get suited up before the Hulk arrived with a roar.

“Hulk **SMASH** Puny Guns!” A huge green fist collided with both weapon and wall, cracking the plaster and crumpling the gun into a useless twist of metal. Three more went the same way -- leaving a spiderweb of cracks on the wall and piles of disfigured weaponry.

“Hey, no, Big Guy...” Tony took a deep breath and forced a shout, “ **Stop** , Hulk! Unless you want to bring the whole place down on us. Really, just me. That wouldn’t be so great... ow...”

The voice cut through the wall of rage and Hulk sniffed, then looked around. His fist closed around the barrel of the final gun protruding from the wall and he crushed it without even so much as sparing it a look. “What is Tin Man doing out of his suit?”

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, just a little R&R, Big Guy. I... don’t suppose you’d mind not hitting the wall again? Doesn’t look like you broke anything load bearing but... I’m not going to be able to get into my suit. My arm’s shot.”

“Gun hurt Tin Man?”

“No, I hurt myself, heh. Not so smart, I know.” Tony grinned up at the Hulk. The door to the sub-basement had slid open in the meanwhile, revealing a grey and white paneled hallway and more steps leading down. Tony could smell old wiring and battery acid.

Hulk crouched down in front of Tony and peered at him. “Tin Man needs a doctor.”

“Yeah, probably. I can’t feel my fingers. But that’s okay, really.” Tony added quickly before Hulk could decide to assist somehow. He reached out, put a hand over one of Hulk’s and hoisted himself up. “You think you can... wait right here while I go down this little hallway and take a look around?

Hulk nodded. “Tin Man not go too far. Hulk will smash puny hallway if Tin Man gets in trouble.”

“I appreciate that,” Tony said sincerely. “And you’re getting much better on those verb conjugations. Jarvis is going to be so proud,” Tony added as he limped down the hall, his good hand pressed against the wall for balance. He couldn’t lift the case for the suit, so he nudged it along with his legs. It was admittedly slow going, but he felt rewarded when they rounded the corner of the hall and he caught sight of the full space.

It was a single circular room with panels of very old computers taking up three quarters of the space. They were still powered, still running. There were data readouts in piles on the floor -- years’ worth of paper printouts before the paper had run out for printing.

“Jarvis, are you getting all this?”

“I am, Sir.”

“Good. Great. Scan for me and see if you can find a likely data recorder. I’m just going to sit down right here and... take a break.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to try my very best to get more posts up over the next few weeks. Fingers crossed guys and thank you for reading!


	14. Incomplete Dominance (in Alleles)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More data gathering, and a practical demonstration.

Bruce had never realized how often the pain spurred him to consciousness again after returning to himself until there was no pain to speak of. He was only vaguely aware of his surroundings -- the cool tile of the basement floor, the soft lighting. He'd lost his clothes again, and there were shreds of cotton fabric across his chest and thighs.

Slowly Bruce began to piece together what had happened. He remembered being in the attic, and then helping Tony downstairs. Steve was supposed to be on his way. They were... _going to look for the sub-basement. And then Tony found the panel and -- guns. Shit._  Bruce sat up straight and looked around with a groan. There was blood -- his blood, he knew it from the smell of the gamma -- and huge cracks along the wall. He could see the remains of the guns, the ruined shelf that Tony had shoved to one side, but of Tony there was no sign.

"Tony?" Bruce got to his feet, still looking around. There was the doorway that had opened when Tony found the panel. Maybe he'd gone downstairs. Of course he had. Waiting when he knew Steve was on the way would be the last thing Tony would want to do. 

"Bruce? Tony?" Steve’s voice echoed overhead.

Bruce paused in the doorway. Tony was downstairs. Steve was upstairs. He would much rather follow Tony, but Tony had been adamant about not wanting Steve in the house. Bruce hesitated a moment longer before he started partway up the stairs. The fact that he was naked didn't bother him as much as it would have in other circumstances.

This time at least, Bruce knew that he hadn't hurt anyone. And there was minimal damage (on Hulk-related scales) so he didn’t have a lot of debris or shrapnel to avoid stepping on.

“Down here, Captain,” Bruce called and then turned and headed back down to the doorway that led to the sub-basement. He didn’t wait for Steve to catch up. Instead he held out hope that Tony would rather have Steve downstairs versus wandering around upstairs looking for them. 

\---------------------------

Tony recognized the sensation from the moment he first felt it creeping over him a good ten minutes after Jarvis had started his scan. Bruce hadn’t talked much about what it was like coming back to himself after spending time as the Hulk, but the one brief description -- the all-over burn of the radiation, the pain and hypersensitivity -- that part had stuck with Tony.

So he knew what was happening, even as he turned to put his back against the wall and lie down. The floor was cool, and it was the only thing he had to counteract the unnatural heat that felt like it was burning its way through his veins. “Hey, Jarvis?” 

“Sir?”

“How are we... how are we doing on that scan?” 

“Nearly completed, Sir. I have found several data tapes, a central server with stored information, and I have scanned as much of the data as is currently visible on the papers.”

“So what’s the verdict?” Tony’s breath hitched. Coconut again. Well, that explained what he’d been feeling in the medbay the first time he woke up after the incident. The burning around the edges -- gamma. But his breathing was a little easier. He probably owed it to Bruce that he only had bruised ribs and not broken ones. 

“Most data is related to the project ADAM -- Advanced Defense And Mobilization -- with some other data cross-referenced.”

“Looks like we hit the jackpot,” Tony closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Coconut. Burning. Even the tiles of the floor felt too hot and Tony curled in on himself as much as he could.

Tony had just about willed himself into unconsciousness to get away from the pain when he heard someone calling his name. “M’here,” he mumbled to no effect. A few moments later there was a hand on his shoulder and he wanted to crawl out of his skin to get away from the touch because _fuck_ that hurt.

Bruce pulled his hand away immediately. “Christ, Tony. Sorry.” He really had used his dislocated shoulder to knock the shelf over. Putting that right again wasn’t going to be fun for either of them, he imagined. “Sorry,” Bruce said again, softer this time. “Let me just...” he got down on his knees and put a hand on Tony’s forehead, then slid his fingers into Tony’s sweat damp hair. Definitely hotter than normal. That wasn’t a good sign either.

Tony turned towards Bruce’s hand and tried to open his eyes. That touch was like a bastion of coolness and it chased away the worst of the pain there against his skin. Tony sighed, eyelashes fluttering with relief. “See why you like it when I hold you after, now,” he mumbled. 

“After?” Bruce frowned, and then glanced back at the doorway. Still no sign of Steve. 

“Yeah when you...” Tony trailed off and stared for a moment once he managed to get his eyes open. “... You’re naked.” 

“When I’m naked?” Bruce blinked, eyebrows raised.

“Mr. Stark is manifesting very low levels of gamma radiation -- approximately 28% of expected levels that are typically be attributable to you directly after a transformation, Sir,” Jarvis broke into the conversation briefly. “Also, my scan is complete. I have located all readily accessible data and am prepared to direct collection.” 

_So that’s where the pain went._ Bruce shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “You seem to be getting the short end of this quantum exchange, Tony. I’m sorry about that.”

“Not so short,” Tony said as the ghost of a mischievous smile played across his lips. It took some effort, but he managed to keep his eyes open to fully appreciate the view. “You’re not wearing any pants. And I think the gamma reaction is helping my ribs if not my shoulder.” He started to push himself to a sitting position with his good hand but another wave of that burning sensation when he flexed his muscles had him lying right back down again. “Okay, that was a bad idea.” 

“Shh. Don’t try to move on your own. I’ll talk to Cap when he gets down here. In the meantime... I should get you more comfortable.” Bruce kept up the soothing caress through Tony’s hair and down the nape of his neck. He knew he should be building up test cases in his head. He should be trying to get a pattern that would tell when the pain would make him change, and when it wouldn’t. When things seemed to hurt Tony and when they seemed to help. But Bruce couldn’t focus on anything past the soft brown hair sliding against his fingers and the smile Tony wore as he looked up at him. A real smile, one of the ones that made his eyes light up, even if he was definitely in pain. 

“I’m pretty comfortable, Bruce,” Tony said with a soft sigh. It was the truth, and infinitely more truthful the longer Bruce kept running his fingers through Tony’s hair. “You... should borrow my pants. And let Jarvis show you where to get the data. If Steve’s here already, we should get going.” 

“Sure, Tony,” Bruce said and he nodded in agreement. He knew from a great deal of personal experience that lying still was the best way to wait out the pain. Bruce also knew that Tony’s gentle touches had helped to calm the worst of that pain on those days he had spent recovering from his time as the Hulk.

It was a little strange for Bruce, taking Tony’s pants off for him in less than intimate circumstances. He was as gentle as he could be given the situation and he ran his hands over the spots where the jeans brushed against Tony’s bare skin, hoping that the contact would calm the worst of the oversensitization.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Tony murmured and he watched as Bruce pulled those pants up and headed for the data tapes while Jarvis began giving instructions on how to disassemble and pack up. He could still feel the trails of coolness where Bruce’s fingertips had touched him, little oases of relief.

“Tony? Bruce?” Steve’s voice held more than a touch of concern as he finally found his way to the sub-basement. He wasn’t in his Captain America outfit, but even in blue jeans and a white t-shirt, Steve Rogers seemed all business when he came into view.

Tony decided on the lesser of two evils and simply closed his eyes. For all intents and purposes, he looked like he was sleeping with his back against the wall, partly curled around the case for the Mach V. 

“We’re fine, Steve,” Bruce said with a nod in Tony’s direction. “Just finishing up here so we can go.”

“This does not look ‘fine’... Bruce, is he drunk?” Steve’s voice dropped to a stage whisper as he noticed Tony curled up on the floor.

“Of course he’s not drunk,” Bruce glanced over to see if Steve was serious. “He’s resting.”

“If he’s that tired, shouldn’t he be resting back at the Tower? Why would you two come out here without me? And what happened upstairs to set the Hulk off?” Steve waded into the mass of papers and started folding them up. He paused when he got to the center of the room and took a good look around, frowning a little. 

“You didn’t notice the...? Well, I guess they don’t look much like guns now,” Bruce admitted. He unplugged another cartridge and got the case prepped just as Jarvis had instructed. 

“Guns. So you were shot. Tony could have been shot. Doctor Banner. Bruce... I think we both know that Tony was too injured to come out here at all. I can’t protect you both if I’m not in the loop,” Steve finished gathering up one of the long strips of paper and sat it beside a console. “You can’t let him drag you into situations like this. He could have been hurt and so could you.” 

“I think we both know that Tony Stark is a grown man,” Bruce countered evenly. He gave Steve a cool look. “I don’t dictate what Tony does or does not do. I went with him because he asked me and I agreed it would be better than having him go alone.”

“So you’re fine with enabling irresponsible and potentially reckless behavior?”

“I’m fine with backing up a friend,” Bruce took a deep breath and then exhaled. Getting upset would just hurt Tony. Tony was already hurting enough. But he couldn’t help the little restless thread of... not jealousy. Whatever that kiss had been, it was not a part of a larger pattern of behavior and Bruce knew that he had nothing to be jealous of when it came to Steve Rogers. Annoyance. That was a better word. 

“A friend.” Steve nodded curtly. “Okay. Fine.” 

“Hey, Steve,” Tony’s voice held steady as he spoke across the room. “How much did Fury tell you about this assignment?”

Steve turned towards Tony, blue eyes looking him over assessingly. Maybe he wasn’t drunk after all. “Not too much,” he admitted.

“Great. That’s about what I figured. So, my shoulder is dislocated again. Feel like snapping it back into place for me?”

“... I could do that,” Steve nodded slowly and went over to where Tony was lying on the floor.

“Before you do that,” Tony said, pausing to push himself up with his one good hand. “Before you do that, I need Doctor Banner over here. Are you going to be alright with him popping my shoulder into place, Bruce?” 

“If you can handle it, I seem to be able to,” Bruce gave Tony a faint smile and nodded. He knew it had to hurt like hell for Tony to force himself upright like that again, but that was Tony. Too stubborn to stop until he had no other choice. 

“What do you mean...?” Steve paused and looked between the two men, frowning again. 

“Help me get my shoulder back into the socket and you’ll see.” Tony made it sound almost like a dare, and he tipped his head up with an arrogant little smirk that seemed to add ‘if you aren’t scared, that is.’

“Hold still,” Steve said, and the frown deepened. He hated these little power games that Tony always felt like he had to play, but if his shoulder was dislocated then it should be reset sooner rather than later, regardless. He spared another glance in Bruce’s direction and then crouched down beside Tony. “Alright, I’m going to bend your arm up and this is probably going to hurt so...”

“Good grief, just do it already,” Tony said with a breathless laugh. He patted the floor next to himself. “Sit here with me, Bruce?” And then his attention went back to Steve. “You’re about to get a practical lesson in quantum entanglement.”

Bruce obligingly joined the two men and sat down. Steve shook his head slightly, then bent Tony’s arm at the elbow and got it to a ninety-degree angle before starting to work it back into place.

To his credit, Tony did not cry out or even whimper. He did however grit his teeth and squint his eyes shut as he hissed in pain. Bruce felt the heat and the dull ache that always came whenever the Hulk was knocking at the back of his mind, the flash of pain making his eyes light up as they went from dark brown to bright emerald green.

Steve was so startled that he nearly dropped Tony’s arm to get some distance between himself and Bruce. “Jesus.”

“No... Tony.” Tony managed a breathless grin. “And that’s Bruce. You’re not done yet, Cap. Finish it -- he’s not going to change because right now, as long as _I_  don’t give in to the pain, he won’t have to.” He waited until Steve had a moment to glance at Bruce and get a confirming nod before continuing, “His powers. My reactor. The blast that took us both out has tied them together for now. _That’s_ why Fury’s got you on babysitting duty, not that there’s a damned thing you or anyone else can do about it -- it has to wear off on its own.”

“Christ,” Steve breathed out the word and then got back to coaxing Tony’s shoulder into place. “You could have told me that to start.” He turned Tony’s arm to the left, right, left again -- that last made Tony tense up. Steve forced the next turn a little harder than he meant to and there was an audible -pop- that made him wince, but Tony sighed with relief.

“Could have. But that was more educational for everyone. I think.” Tony rolled his shoulder and then leaned against Bruce. “I also think you promised me pain meds, Doctor.”

“Let’s go home and I’ll get you the good stuff.”


	15. Part 15: Sliding Scale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief Clintasha interlude. AKA: Clint waits his turn.

“What are we doing out here, Clint?” Natasha leaned against the door of Clint’s car, arms folded, and looked out across the street. They’d been driving around for hours, first in the city, now out of it. Currently they were near a park across from a small set of office buildings. 

“Looking for a lost friend,” Clint said with a mischievous smile. “And taking a pretty lady to the park.” 

“Is this friend anyone I know?” Natasha asked, one brow raised slightly as she took in Clint’s expression.

“Not personally, but you’ve been acquainted briefly in the past. Left them a present they haven’t noticed yet and I’m finally getting a signal update.” 

“... You managed to tag one of them. But you didn’t put it in the report, why?”

“Because we both know they’d have pulled me from the mission if they knew. They knocked me down to Level 5 after...” Clint shook his head. “Anyway, something’s going on. I’m going to find out what.”

“You know I share everything they give me, right?” Natasha unfolded her arms, moving to join Clint on his side of the car. She watched as Clint pulled on his shades and gave her another smile. They had a version of this conversation at least once every two weeks. Natasha knew she should be tired of hearing it, and most definitely _would_ be tired of hearing it if it were anyone else but Clint. 

Just like Clint should have gotten tired of her near-endless cycle of questioning everything he said and did when he first brought her in to SHIELD and spoke on her behalf.

“I know, Tasha,” Clint nodded. “Which is why we have to do it this way. We both know they are likely filtering your intel to control what gets back to me. Until I can prove that I'm not going to... go back to how I was, I'm putting us both in danger.”

"You would have done a lot more damage if you really weren't fighting his control. You had a clear headshot on Fury and didn’t take it. You also left every single enemy combatant in SHIELD uniforms with tracking embedded," Natasha didn't coddle or any of the other condescending bullshit that people were expected to do in the name of “comfort”. Instead, she laid out the facts as she always did. After a heartbeat, she took Clint's arm and let him walk with her as though they were any other couple enjoying a stroll through the park.

"And a lot of people died. Good people," Clint put a hand over Natasha's and started walking. The readout in his shades on the location of the tracker his arrow had fired was courtesy of Tony Stark. The man might be an arrogant prick on occasion, but he was a _generous_ arrogant prick in some ways. 

"You saved millions more. I'm not going to sugarcoat this. Yes, what happened to those operatives was horrible. But they took the job knowing the risks. It wasn’t something you could help and beating yourself up over the enemy having superior tactics that we couldn’t anticipate isn't going to solve a damned thing. We're better prepared now, and you --"

"I still hear him sometimes. In my head, when I'm almost asleep. Whispering things. Screaming..." Clint said softly. He shook his head. "Until that stops, I shouldn't be above Level 5 anyway."

Natasha stopped and just looked at him, her gaze steady and direct. "You never said..."

"For it to find its way into my psyche evals later? No thank you. I know you won't report it. Not unless I really am a threat. I trust your judgment call there," Clint said. He tipped his head and kissed Natasha's temple, looking out across the park. Clint’s eyesight let him see individual leaves rustling at 100 yards or more, and with the tracking system overlaid on his shades, he had a virtual map of the entire area at his disposal. "Mmm...looks like our friend is in the fourth office building on the right. Potentially not alone." 

"Do you think it's a front for their entire base? We’re only a few miles from the incident site," Natasha said and nuzzled Clint's throat. She liked not having to pretend the affection, even if the display itself was for show. One of the better things about being partnered with Clint -- he was a man that she actually enjoyed touching under multiple circumstances, and he could be trusted to keep his mind on the job, regardless of where her hands wandered in the line of duty. 

"Might be. I think they went underground on us -- that's why I lost the signal. Which means that wherever they work, the major portion of it is probably below our feet." 

"We'll need a way in." 

"Yeah. Thought we might enjoy the park and the food vendors and see who and what comes out for lunch. Give us an idea on how to fit in."

"Look at you, acting like a real spy instead of an assassin," Natasha teased. "All those James Bond films must be rubbing off on you.

"Hey, how else am I going to get my turn at seducing the rich guy?"


	16. Part 16: Actions and Reactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony on pain meds, plus false assumptions of all sorts.

"And download the framework for running kinetic simulations," Tony added as Bruce turned to get a tablet from the counter.

Bruce had been true to his word about giving Tony the "good" pain meds, but that didn't mean that Tony had been willing to actually go to sleep. 

Quite the opposite, in fact. Once the medication had kicked in, Tony suddenly decided that it would be an _excellent_ time to start running simulations with the data they had obtained.

“Maybe you should just get some rest,” Steve suggested. He watched as Tony tucked himself into one of the corners of the big L-shaped couch in the den.

Tony lied down on his side and rested his cheek against the armrest. He looked up at Steve, brows knitted as though carefully considering his suggestion before he replied. “No.” 

“You're being impossible.” 

“No, I’m being _disagreeable_ ,” Tony said as he held out a hand for the tablet that Bruce brought back to him. 

“Regardless, you should be getting some sleep while --” 

“-- a clearly dangerous paramilitary organization misuses tech that came from my company? Whose side are you on, Steve?” Tony scowled over the edge of the tablet.

“Should I order lunch for everyone?” Bruce asked, ignoring the quasi-argument between the other two men as Tony got to work.

Bruce knew only two ways of reliably putting Tony to sleep in the best of circumstances, which these were not. But even so, the fact that Tony was willingly staying in one spot and working on something that (probably) wouldn’t explode was a definite victory, especially when pain meds were involved. 

The last time he’d had to give Tony Stark pain medication, they’d spent the following three weeks locked in the Tower with industrial-level energy scanners hunting down miniaturized robots armed with lasers that operated in the ultraviolet spectrum.

Steve threw up his hands in surrender. “Lunch sounds good. Maybe have the deli deliver something, and I’ll head over to SHIELD to pick up the rest of what you need.”

“Doughnuts. At least six doughnuts. The cake kind, not the fried kind. And a burger,” Tony murmured without looking up.

Bruce smiled and shook his head. “Alright, Tony.”

 

\---------------------------

 

It always started with that metallic taste at the back of his throat. The medication Bruce had given him had calmed his earlier pain to a dull ache and left him floating in a cloud of quiet euphoria for a while, but it couldn’t stop this. Not even lunch had helped, and that had been hours ago. 

Unfortunately, this feeling was familiar, and it never meant anything good. It was like he’d swallowed too much blood and it was trying to creep its way back up. Tony tried to fight it, that sick roll of nausea and the way his pulse rate sped up for no reason, the shortness of breath, that faint echo of voices and footsteps. _Gunfire._

_They were shooting again. Practice or just for intimidation’s sake, Tony didn’t know or care. The suit was almost ready. He was almost safe. The electromagnet was doing its job, would keep doing its job._

_The gunfire stopped. That could mean that they were turning in for the evening, or it could mean they were going to come in and “question” him further about the progress of their bombs. He needed to stall them just a few more days. Yinsen couldn’t be expected to keep them off of his back forever. Tony swapped the lights, hiding the blueprints for the reactor and pulling up a blank panel, just in case._

_But he wasn’t fast enough. Not good enough. Didn’t hear the click of the gun until it was too late. Until the cold metal of the barrel was against his neck._

_Tony didn’t need to understand what was being said to him. He knew what the gestures meant. March. Stop. Sit. He couldn’t fight them with wires trailing from his rib cage and a battery tucked under one arm._

_Couldn’t fight. Just had to endure. They knew he couldn’t answer him, that he didn’t understand more than three words in seven. When they didn’t call Yinsen in to translate, it meant they didn’t care. It was a game they played, to see how long it would take to make him scream._

_Tony took a deep breath. The water was going to be cold and there was something in it that would sting his eyes and the cuts on his mouth. The electric current they were going to run through him would be hot. If he was lucky, the stress would make him pass out. If he wasn’t, he would have several hours to feel every nerve on his left-hand side go raw from the electricity._

_White-hot needles of pain shot down one arm and Tony felt his body lock up. A gloved hand yanked his hair, then forced his head underneath the water. His heart was racing. Fast. Too fast. Going to kill me this time. Don’t want to die... not yet..._

_And back out of the water again. Gasping. Trying to see. No time to see. They yelled questions he didn’t understand. No time to answer. Another jolt of pain, the world going dim and gray at the edges. Water again. Cold and dark like... space. Like falling. Falling forever. Because wasn’t that what happened when you fucked up? When you couldn’t get it right the first time? Such a disappointment. Always, always a disappointment._

There was no creak of metal this time when Hulk caught him. Tony tried to sit up, struggling with the sheet he’d brought to the couch. The tablet he’d been working from fell to the floor at Hulk’s feet. Evening light filtered in from the windows and the air in the penthouse smelled like fresh linen and apples, not blood and bomb smoke.

“Nothing to smash,” Hulk grumbled. He propped Tony up on the couch with one large hand.

Tony looked around, put a hand over the reactor and just tried to breathe. “Shit.” 

“No shit either,” Hulk said. He seemed much happier about that.

“I dunno, Big Guy. I think this qualifies as bullshit, at least. Sorry you had to show up when there’s... no party,” Tony was finally able to focus on the fact that he was being held. One large, green hand had kept him from catapulting himself off of the couch and crashing into the glass table nearby.

Hulk carefully plucked the covers away to let Tony escape their confines. “Tin man needs less thinking, more doing.”

“Now that... that is a very astute observation. And since it’s my fault you’re here at the moment, let me make it up to you. How does ice cream sound?” Tony asked as he got to his feet, still trembling with nerves, still feeling the echoes of the old pain. “You can sit... just sit right here. I reinforced all the furniture.” Tony ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair and cursed inwardly. Now was not the time for this. He’d only barely started running simulations on the new data. Steve would be back from picking up additional SHIELD intel at any moment. _Shit. Shit shit shit._

Hulk watched Tony move, catching the scent of fear and pain as it faded out along with the sweat. A nightmare. Hulk understood those, even if he didn’t articulate it. The offer of ice cream was met with a grunt, and Hulk turned slowly to sit down on the puny couch. He was pleasantly surprised when it didn’t fall apart or even creak. “Hulk likes ice cream.” 

Tony nodded and made his way to the kitchen. No cave. No wires. No Yinsen... best not think about that. No aliens either. He took down the gallon of red velvet ice cream from the freezer and started to get a bowl before logic reasserted itself and he just got the biggest spoon he could find instead. He brought both out to Hulk, and offered them up. “I’m... going to take a shower. You talk to Jarvis if you need anything okay?”

“Hulk will ask,” and he nodded as well before starting in on the ice cream. 

 

\------------------------------------

 

“Bruce, why are you --” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Is that an empty gallon of --”

“Yes.” 

“Did you --” 

“Probably,” Bruce ran a hand through his hair and glanced up at Steve. 

Steve was blushing. Not because Bruce was naked, but because Bruce was naked, there were ice cream smudges on the sheet wrapped around him, and he could hear the shower down the hall which meant that Tony was also quite likely naked and... perhaps he should have given them more time alone while getting the paperwork they needed from SHIELD. “I’ll... leave these on the desk by the door.” 

“Thank you. Would you excuse me for a moment?” Bruce stood up, keeping a hand on the sheet so it stayed wrapped around his waist as he headed down the hall and to Tony’s room. 

Tony heard the door to his room open and close as he stood under the spray of the shower. The worst of that ghostly pain he now associated with gamma had faded out. His ribs felt better. His shoulder, too. Just a dull ache, even without the pain medication.

But even knowing that someone was in his room didn’t stop him from jumping slightly when Bruce peered into the bathroom itself. “Tony? We need to talk.”

“Right now? Okay, but I warn you -- I’m on my final rinse and about to exit this shower.” 

“Like I haven’t seen you naked before,” Bruce said with a faint smirk.

“Point taken. So, what can I do for you?” Tony asked as he turned off the water and slid open the door to the shower to step out. 

Bruce needed a heartbeat just to look at him. A moment to enjoy a breath of steamy, soap-scented air, and the way the water rolled across Tony’s bare skin when he moved.

“Bruce?”

“Why did I change this time?”

“No idea,” Tony lied quickly and reached for a towel. Bruce’s skin was sticky in spots from the ice cream. His hair was mussed and he looked for all the world like he’d spent the last several hours being touched and kissed. Or maybe that was just what Tony wished the last several hours had been like. Tony wasn’t sure on that regard, and he was swift to get the towel wrapped around his waist.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

“We were working together on the couch and you don’t know what set me off? Tony...”

“I can't talk about this right now, Bruce,” Tony grabbed another towel and dried off his hair, going past Bruce and into the bedroom. 

“Don’t you think this might be important? If I have to worry about changing completely randomly --”

“You don’t have to worry. I’m not discussing this right now. We have more important things to figure out, like where these people came from and how we’re going to take them down.” 

Bruce made a frustrated noise. “I can’t _believe_ you would withhold information at a time like this.” 

“Bruce, drop it,” Tony scowled and looked away. “We’ll worry about the quirks of this situation when --”

“Quirks? Quirks! You think it’s minor that I could turn into the Other Guy at any given moment? That I’m not even in control of that right now?? Tony what is wrong with you?” Bruce followed after him and put a hand on Tony’s shoulder to turn him around. “ _What_ is going on?”  

“Nothing. It won’t happen again. Not randomly, anyway.” 

“If you don’t know what happened, how can you know that?”

“Bruce... you’ve just got to trust me.” 

“Trust you. Right. I actually _do_ trust you, Tony,” Bruce let his hand drop and turned for the door. “So let me know whenever you’re ready to pay me the same courtesy.” He closed the door behind himself with exceptional gentleness as he left. 

Tony waited a full five seconds afterwards before he dropped down onto the bed and hid his face in his hands. _Fuck_.

And then his phone rang. Tony startled, then reached out and waved a hand over where it laid on the nightstand to answer the call. 

“Stark here.”  

“Tony?” The woman’s voice at the other end of the phone was familiar, but it took Tony several moments before the name that went with the voice resurfaced in his mind. 

“... Maya?”

“Oh wow, you remember, _and_ you didn’t hang up.”

“Yes, well. You still owe me an apology for leaving me handcuffed to Rhodey at the Salviatino ten years ago.”  Tony connected the call to the network so he could drag a floating screen with him to the closet while he got dressed. “Until then, I have to remember you, for spite. How did you get this number, by the way?”

“Do you remember what you did to earn those handcuffs? I may never apologize. But... if you meet me for drinks, I might have some new research to share. You gave me your internal number at the conference three years ago before your life got very interesting.”

“Uh oh. Are you pitching me? I don’t take pitches after... whatever time it was an hour ago.”

“No pitching. I just want your honest opinion. Promise me you’ll come. I still remember that one bar down on 85th...”

“Yes. Yes I will be there.” Tony couldn’t help smiling. Maya had known more bars than he did, once upon a time. Smart, sassy. Beautiful. Top of her field in biochemistry and molecular biology. To be fair, there had been a lot of beautiful women back then but Maya had been special.

For a few months at least, until their work had taken them down different paths.

“Great. It’ll be fun to catch up -- I’ll text you the address if you can get away tonight.”

Tony pulled on his pants and grabbed a shirt. “Trust me when I say... There’s nothing It’d like more than to get away for a while. See you then.”


	17. Part 17: Mnemonic Lift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master assassins both in the field, and out of it.

“It’ll have to be the next building over,” Clint confirmed after a cursory glance at the menu in front of him. He’d never been a fan of sidewalk cafes (too expensive, too pretentious, not enough beer) but necessity had dictated they find a spot to sit that wouldn’t draw any unwanted attention. Plus there was the benefit of perspective. He could look out across the park on the other side of the street and over to the buildings they’d been watching for the better part of the day.

“Access?” Natasha stirred sugar into her coffee and had a sip. In the entire time they’d been there, no one had left the target building, but there had been plenty of traffic from adjacent buildings. Clint’s mark had traveled to the top of the building, back to the lobby, and was now three floors up.

“Fire escape, roof access panel. There are two cameras, both stationary,” Clint replied. He ran a hand through his hair and picked up the menu again as the waitress made her approach. “I think I’m about ready to let you order for me, Sweetheart.”  

“Are you sure you want what I’d pick?” Natasha smiled and her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Have to live dangerously if I want to keep up with the beautiful women of the world.”

“Alright then, two vege--”

“Awww, anything but the v-word,” Clint sighed and slumped down into the chair. The waitress laughed politely as she took their order. The banter of an established couple was a good cover, one they’d used so often that Clint could almost believe that it wasn’t an act anymore.

Then again, his dismay over Natasha’s menu choices when she was deliberately teasing him was real enough. Clint wanted _real_ lunch and not carrot sticks wrapped in lettuce leaves with a bow made of parsnips or whatever horrible thing Tasha would try to get him to eat as part of their cover.    

Natasha tutted, “Think of your health, Darling.” She finished giving the waitress the order and Clint sat up in his chair again, resigned.

“I am, trust me. I could pass out from anemia, after all,” he muttered as the waitress smiled and left them in peace.  

Natasha had another sip of her drink, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips.

In another time and place, Clint would have found that look incredibly distracting. Later, the memory of it would be a pleasant diversion when he was stuck writing up reports in the early hours of the morning. But for now...

“Got one,” Clint murmured and reached across the table to put his hand over Natasha’s.

“Same building?”

“Yeah. It... looks like one of our people.”

“Someone you know?”

“Nope. Her uniform is definitely the real thing, but it’s out of date. Those are our patches from five, no, six years ago,” Clint rubbed his thumb back and forth across Natasha’s hand.

“We need to get in closer,” Natasha murmured. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly in a frown and she leaned back in her chair.

“After you. I’ll handle the check.”

Natasha pulled her hand away abruptly and took out her phone. “I can’t believe you, sometimes. Why would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s the truth, babe,” Clint replied and he leaned back in his chair, giving her a cocky grin.

“You... you are full of _shit_ ,”  Natasha tossed the phone back into her purse and stood up. “I don’t need this bullshit anymore and I sure as hell don’t need you!”

“Wait, what? C’mon. I spent my day off wandering around a goddamned park, I take you to lunch -- you’re _welcome_ by the way -- and now you want to turn into Ms. Independent Badass?” Clint rolled his eyes behind the shades. “Sit your ass down and eat your lettuce or whatever the hell you ord--” He ducked, and the last splash of water from Natasha’s glass went over his head and landed three feet away from the next closest couple, who turned around to gape at the scene.

“ _So_ done with you,” Natasha spat the words out, slammed the glass down and stalked off. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

It took Clint three seconds to look shocked, then five more to get up and go after her. Half-way down the steps leading up to the cafe, he paused and ran back to the table, tossing forty dollars on it. More money than anyone should ever spend on lettuce.

The entire scene took less than 40 seconds to orchestrate and execute, start to finish. Their target was still on the move and still visible. Clint put in his earpiece and pretended to dial on his phone. “C’mon, sweetheart, I’m sorry. Talk to me?”

Natasha turned the corner and headed for the second set of office buildings they wanted to use for access. She turned off the waterworks once she was safely off of the main street. “I’m listening.”

“There is absolutely no one more important to me than you,” Clint said.

He slowed down, keeping the woman in view as she made her way to another set of office buildings. At this distance, he was just some guy to her, if she noticed at all. But Clint could see the individual highlights in her hair, and the weave of her suit jacket. _Definitely SHIELD-issue gear. Even the keycard she’s using to check into the building has the same coding on the back._

He watched her push the buttons on the number pad, saw the access scanner do its work. _No voice or biometric recognition, that’s good. We’ll still need to take out the cameras though..._

“And?” Natasha asked, her voice still holding a tinge of pretended affront.

“And... you can be a badass lettuce-eating Amazon whenever you want? Listen, I’m standing right at the corner of...” Clint paused and pulled down his shades to read the street signs out to Natasha. “It’s lonely and there’s an old lady giving me the evil eye because she thinks I’m talking to myself. You tell me where you are, and I’ll go get the car, come pick you up and we can finish our date.”   

Natasha bit her lips to keep from laughing, and looked over the back alleyways that Clint could only get a representation of through the shades, since there were buildings in the way. “Oh god... I don’t know. I didn’t even think about which way I was going... ummm...” Natasha pretended to stall as she examined the security from this side. _Cameras, some infrared beams tied to an alarm system. Oh, and barbed wire, how quaint_. “Ah, here’s a sign.” She gave Clint the name of the street and waited.

“Be right there, baby.”

\---------------

Thirty minutes later, they were both sprawled across Clint’s bed with a pizza box and a laptop between them, looking at the readouts from the shades. Natasha had kicked off her shoes and was lying there on her stomach, using one hand to work the touch screen on the monitor.

“This security is only partly SHIELD protocol -- whoever it is, they are being lax, or they have better security inside,” Clint said and had another slice of pizza (so much better than vegetarian anything).

“Let’s assume better security,” Natasha said as she flicked through a few more screens. “You’d almost think it was a prison judging from the back...”

“Paramilitary, same thing,” Clint replied as he reached across the bed for his beer. The first time he’d let Natasha see his very plain and admittedly cheap apartment, he’d been embarrassed. She was this bright spot of elegance, feminine, beautiful... and could dislocate your arm in less than three seconds while wearing Versace.  Not likely to be impressed with things like mostly-functional air conditioning and running water.

But Natasha had ignored the (lack of) decor on her first visit and instead had focused on the company. His company. Fast forward a few years and it didn’t even faze him to have her there. Clint passed her another beer as he got his own.

“If they’re running the same protocols, our key cards will get us in,” Natasha mused and had a sip of beer. “But then they’d know exactly who infiltrated.”

“Yeah, and if this is a rogue branch of our own organization, that would be bad,” Clint hmmed, then snapped his fingers. “Got it. We just need to use the old cards -- they’ll work with that kind of lock. We’ll need them reprogrammed, but we should be able to John Doe them and still get in.”

“So how do we reprogram them?” Natasha glanced over at Clint.

“We... crap. The only station that I know for that is on the Helicarrier. We’d tip our hand.”

“Maybe not. Stark downloaded everything from the ship before. Maybe he’s got the protocols for reprogramming them.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Great. Looks like your turn to seduce the billionaire is coming up faster than expected,” Natasha teased.

“He still hasn’t forgiven you for the syringe to the neck thing, has he?”

“No, but that’s alright. I didn’t apologize.”


	18. Part 18: Guidance Systems Offline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These interruptions are neither convenient nor funny.

They had the nullification generator; they had the data from both SHIELD and his father. Everything was falling into place. Project ADAM files showed several schematics for robots specializing in recognizance and rescue. Maybe his father had learned a little something from him after all. There was only one problem:

Bruce had stopped talking to him again.

Tony couldn’t blame Bruce for that. It was the control issue and he understood. Or rather, it was the lack of control which was an issue. Bruce had fought hard for the ability to be himself. To not let the Other Guy break through in random moments of anger or pain. In simplest terms, to have the ability to be a little guy who gets big sometimes when he needs to, versus a big guy who gets little only when he has to.

But now Bruce’s hard-fought control was in Tony’s hands. And Tony... well, he was fucking it up. Royally. The only consolation Tony could find was in the algorithm. It was finally coming together, the variables were resolving properly, and...

“Looks like you will be back to yourself in another couple of days, if the math checks out.”

“So far, so good,” Bruce agreed with a nod. He wondered, briefly, if this was some kind of test. Was Tony waiting for a “pretty please tell me what’s wrong?” or was it more complicated than that? Bruce still felt like Tony was on the other side of a wall, only now the wall was see-through and they could almost touch.

But not quite.

“Yeah. We’ll need to let this run for another four, five hours just to double check. In the meantime, we can start to narrow down where those guys came from, and maybe get an idea about their suppliers. The components for stealth-variant technology don’t come cheap,” Tony said with a glance in Bruce’s direction. Any other day, this much progress would have him giddy at the prospect of imminent success. Instead, he just felt restless. Worried. Eventually they’d get this thing solved and...

“I’m sorry.” Bruce pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes.

“I... what?” The apology took Tony off guard and he had to close his eyes and take a deep breath. His pulse rate was kicking up again and he couldn’t tell if that was because of Bruce or his own dread at the direction the conversation was headed.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Bruce repeated, breathing out the words with a shaky sigh. “I shouldn’t have moved out like that. You were right -- I jumped to conclusions.” And even though Bruce had said that he trusted Tony only a little while ago, his actions before hadn’t borne that out. Maybe that was the last piece of the wall they couldn’t get around.

“They were... understandable conclusions, Bruce,” Tony replied. He could hear his heartbeat now, loud and too fast. The worry was there too, tight and hot in his chest with every breath. First, Bruce was pissed (and rightly so) over turning into Hulk with no warning, and now, not 10 minutes later, he was apologizing. That didn’t bode well.

“I don’t think they were,” Bruce took his glasses off and looked Tony in the eyes. “I think... something else was going on. But I don’t know what I did to make it so that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me about it.”

Bruce was right. This was about trust. And if neither of them trusted one another... Hell, had they _ever_ trusted one another? Tony thought they had. It had felt so perfect, so **_right_** that it didn’t need explanations. Until the problems started. _He thought I was cheating, and I let him go right on thinking it, because that was easier. Easier than risking he wouldn’t believe the truth. Now I’m lying for... what? Who am I really trying to protect -- him, or me?_

Tony stared at Bruce for a long time, thoughts racing. Finally he said, “You didn’t do anything, Bruce. This is on me.” Tony found that he couldn’t deal with the little flinch of hurt in Bruce’s eyes and his gaze dropped to the floor in self-defense. _It’s hopeless. He thinks I’m pushing him away. Hell, maybe I am pushing him away._

“An argument takes two people, Tony,” Bruce tried again. “There must be a reason why --”

“There are... a lot of things going on right now,” Tony addressed the tile floor quietly. “Sometimes, even when everything around you is wonderful... there are darker things that just don’t go away.” He looked up at Bruce then, quick to meet his eyes. “I swear you were always one of the wonderful things. The best thing.”  

Bruce held out a hand and Tony found himself moving to take it. It didn’t involve any conscious thought on Tony’s part. Like so many things when it came to Bruce, it was simply something that happened because they both needed it to. In that moment, Tony needed to hold Bruce’s hand. He needed to put an arm around Bruce’s waist and hold him close. He needed to feel the warmth and hope that somehow, he’d be able to fix this. That it wasn’t too broken. That _they_ weren’t too broken.

But more than any of those things, there was an immediate and almost overwhelming need to feel Bruce’s lips against his own. If the way Bruce’s arm tightened around his waist at that kiss, Bruce needed it too. Tony’s hand at Bruce’s waist gradually slid upwards, following the dip of Bruce’s spine all the way up until he could toy with the curls at the nape of Bruce’s neck.

Bruce moaned at the familiar jolt of pleasure at having Tony’s hand in his hair, and Tony found no resistance in deepening that kiss. Relief tangled with pleasure, heavy and sweet like honey rolling over Bruce’s senses, and he put his free hand against the small of Tony’s back, coaxing him closer.

Tony’s heart was still beating too fast, but the tangled knot of worry unraveled itself and the heat traveled lower, encouraged by the way Bruce held him and the press of their bodies as they kissed.

It was a very interesting sensation when Tony’s phone vibrated a scant few seconds later, causing both men to gasp and startle, parting enough for both daylight and laughter.

“Was that on purpose?” Bruce asked, breathless and smiling.

“No, I swear it wasn’t,” Tony laughed and squeezed Bruce’s hand. He took his phone out, sat it on the table of the workbench beside them, and tugged Bruce into another kiss.

Thirty seconds later, the phone vibrated again, a harsh buzzing sound against the tabletop.   

Bruce broke that kiss and nipped at Tony’s ear before murmuring, “Maybe it’s Fury.”

Tony groaned and tipped his head. “M-maybe. I’ll just...” He picked up the phone. The text message flashed by:

_‘Hey, see you in 20 minutes – Maya’_

“Crap,” Tony sat the phone down and looked back at Bruce.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. No one,” Tony started and then stopped. He took another deep breath, and kissed Bruce for half a heartbeat. Honesty. Trust. He could do this. “It’s a woman named Maya Hansen. She’s an old colleague and we dated for a few months about ten years ago. I promised her I’d take a look at her new project tonight. An actual project. Not... y’know.” He looked into Bruce’s eyes and waited as his babbled explanation ran out of steam. Tony barely had any breath left to hold, but he did it anyway.  

“Oh.” Bruce felt his heart drop, then buoy itself back up. That was an answer. A direct answer, even if it made him feel briefly jealous again. “Then I should probably let you go and get ready.”

“I... yeah. I promised, so I should go,” Tony said. He didn’t want to, even as that same realization brought relief. Being able to take a little while to gather his thoughts and figure out the rest of this conversation took away a large portion of the stress. “But I want to talk, when I get back. There are things I want to say, but I haven’t figured out a way to say them.”

Bruce wasn’t expecting that. He’d been poised to have the conversation dropped, and had already begun to think of low-key ways to bring it up again in a few days. “Okay, Tony. I’ll go keep Steve busy until you get back. How long are you going to be out?”

“Couple of hours, tops. Keep this spot warm for me.”


	19. Part 19: Off the Record

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Maya have a nice chat over drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there's only one chapter this time - once again I am swamped with work. I will try to get part 20 up over this long weekend, fingers crossed!

“Okay, this is amazing.”

“What, the project synopsis? Tony you’ve seen that before.”

“No, it’s the dress. You are breaking several well-known laws of physics and yet it’s still in place,” Tony said with a grin. The grin widened when Maya pushed his face and laughed.

She had a beautiful laugh. It was just the right pitch, not shrill or forced, and it made her eyes crinkle at the corners in a way that let the years since he’d last heard it fade away for a time. And as he turned his mostly empty glass of scotch on the bar, Tony realized he’d missed hearing it.

Things had been simpler back then, with the drinking and the parties and theorizing late into the night. Back then the only thing that had kept him awake was a stimulating scientific debate or the pursuit of an equally stimulating physical release. The self-doubt was barely a whisper, easily muted with another round of drinks, and silenced altogether with another presentation or awards ceremony.

“I would explain it to you, but that would ruin the mystery,” Maya retorted with a smile. The dress was a bold splash of red silk - strapless, backless and just short enough to make sitting atop the barstool into a daring proposition. She wasn’t surprised that Tony didn’t remember it. The first time she’d worn it in his presence, he’d had at least twice as much to drink before he’d set eyes on her. But the dress had served its purpose then, as it did now — he was watching her. Maya leaned closer and slid another file across the bar to rest in front of Tony. “Here, take a look at this one.”

Tony beckoned the bartender over to refill his glass, and he took a sip as he opened the file. Plenty of readouts - Maya always liked to skip the preamble and go straight to the data. “You’ve made a phenomenal amount of progress in ten years,” Tony murmured. He remembered this project. It had been ambitious, even when compared to the sequencing of the human genome. Activating non-coding DNA in the hopes of unlocking new proteins that could be used for cell repair, physical enhancement, regrowth, revivification of dead cells… and somehow she was making it work. Tony kept reading and turned a page in the file.

“Not all of it good progress, I’m afraid,” Maya admitted, lowering her voice. The bar was mostly empty. A few drunk patrons were riveted on the basketball game playing on the big screen mounted on the far side of the room. She and Tony had the counter to themselves, with the exception of the bartender.

“You got past the cancer issue,” Tony commented, but he didn’t look up. The data was fascinating. Clinical trials in mice had gone from grotesque failures to extraordinary successes. Tony turned another page and a faint frown creased his brow. “… I thought we’d stopped doing testing on primates. Not you and I ‘we’ but the country in general.”

“Officially, yes. Unofficially… my backers expect results. Which is why I need to you take a look at everything.” Maya caught her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying at it briefly. Then she got down from the barstool and slid it over, getting closer to Tony before reclaiming her seat.

Tony’s gaze immediately snapped over to Maya, both at the movement and the admission. “You said you weren’t pitching me.”

“And I’m not,” Maya said and she shook her head. “I want your opinion, like I said.”

“Alright,” Tony said with a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then had another drink and turned his attention back to the reports. Clinical trials in primates seemed to have gone better, initially. No cancer. Everything stable. Then came the follow-up reports and Tony’s expression darkened. Originally the test subjects were kept in separate cages. When those cages were opened for transport and additional testing… “It mutated on you, didn’t it? You thought you had a simple DNA splice procedure after adding a replication site but it mutated and what you’ve got, Maya, is a virus. One that makes primates highly violent and unpredictable.”

“It’s a… retrovirus, actually,” Maya admitted and had a sip of her own drink. “The heightened aggression was an expected side effect but not to the degree —”

“They slaughtered the lab technicians,” Tony said, jaw clenched. He set the folder down on the counter, closing it.

“Yes, but we were able to put them down,” Maya tried to explain, but Tony cut her off again.

“Why isn’t that the end of the file?”

“Tony you have to understand —”

“Why didn’t you scrap the project? Who are you working for?” Tony knocked back the rest of his drink and put the empty glass on the bar with more force than he’d intended.

“It wasn’t my call to scrap it. It was deemed salvageable —”

“By _who,_ Maya? Who would want to salvage something like this?”

“It’s a military operation, Tony. I… I had to get funding somehow. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, please,” Maya’s voice trembled slightly and she turned away and took a deep breath. “Please. I’m not asking you to do anything except give me an honest opinion.”

 _Well, so much for simpler times._ It was all just a ruse anyway, hiding behind nostalgia and a scotch-induced buzz to cover up the fact that he was right on the edge of losing what he really wanted, if he couldn’t figure out a way to meet Bruce half way. Tony thought about taking the file to him, but no. They had enough to worry about with their own impending clusterfuck.

“Fine. You want my honest opinion? Drop this and run. Don’t look back.”

“I… can’t. Please, if you’ll just read the rest you’ll understand.”

Tony picked up the folder again, thumbing through the contents. He waved the bartender over to refill his glass and noted the look that the tender gave to Maya, who just nodded to him. _Worried about having to cut me off? Goddamn, even random bartenders are joining the ‘Stark you drink too much’ bandwagon tonight_. “Fine.”

Silence descended between them as Tony read. All primates infected with the retrovirus (now classified as _Extremis_ sub. A) were killed. There was more work in the lab, tweaking the control factor and testing via simulation. They went through _Extremis_ sub. B, and burned through several letters of the alphabet and a few numbers as well until they reached _Extremis_ sub. H 27.

That was when the human trials started.

It was convicts at first, men on death row who didn’t have the high profile cases and fancy lawyers to keep up the appeals. Tony made himself read through every single case history. The patient workups. The procedural testing. They were strapped in and injected, kept sedated through most of the changes, and finally killed when the aggression factor kicked in. There were photos of metal doors gouged by the prisoner’s hands in their attempts to escape.

Later, the testing moved on to detainees and suspected terrorists. And finally to a few soldiers. All dead now, but the data screamed at Tony in a way their voices could not. This was a retrovirus. There was no cure. And even if Maya pulled the plug right now, someone (most likely covert ops) would keep right on using it — without the failsafe protocols, without the lethal injections at massive doses… these were unstoppable killing machines.

Tony ran his fingertips over the last page of the file. “So, tell me the rest.”

“And your opinion?” Maya was looking at him steadily now, holding onto her own drink with both hands.

“My opinion is… you’ve narrowed down the control issue to around three thousand potential proteins, all of which have a similar base pair error of translation. It’s possible you could narrow it further and find the protein or proteins causing it, but that would take more trials and you’ve run out of people to test it on without raising… issues for your employer.” Tony finished his drink, then held out the glass to bartender. “One for the road.”

“Tony, you can’t possibly drive—”

“I didn’t drive. I flew. I’ve got autopilot, I’ll be fine, and you still haven’t told me the rest of it.”

Maya propped her elbow on the bar and rested her cheek against her upturned palm. “My lab partner, Aldrich Killian.”

“What about him?”

“He… he thought he’d figured this out. But you were right, we weren’t getting any more test subjects in from the government. They were going to cut the funding, scrap the project, but Aldrich… he…” Maya sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before taking a sip of her own drink. “He tested it on himself.”

“And you had to kill him?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

“No, no that’s just the thing. It _worked_ , for a little while anyway. A few months. We thought it was stable but then he started acting erratic. Showing signs of mental instability and he… ah… killed himself. To try to stop it. He shot himself in the head.”

“Maya…” Tony reached out to her, but she held out a hand, palm up and shook her head.

“No, that’s not… that’s not right. He _tried_ to kill himself but the virus didn’t… it brought him back. Not the man, just… just his body. I tried to help him, I did, Tony but he… he’s escaped.”

“Help him how? Where’s he gone?” All at once, Tony regretted his decision to get as drunk as possible so he’d be able to talk to Bruce when he got back. He felt floaty and disconnected, plus his questions were coming too slow. And when he reached out to put his hand on Maya’s shoulder, he almost missed. Definitely way more intoxicated than he’d intended to be.

“Memory at its core is a chemical storage system. Extremis rebuilds pathways, optimizes them. I thought he’d eventually begin to remember if I could just keep him calm and focused. Getting the neural pathways to rebuild… I just wanted my partner back,” Maya whispered, and put her hand over Tony’s. “I have the rest of his notes, but I didn’t dare turn them over. I don’t know where Aldrich is. I haven’t got anyone else I can turn to. No one else I can trust. Except you, Tony.”

Tony turned his hand so that it was palm up. “This is a really shitty thing to do to people, Maya. I don’t know if I should help at all.”

“I know it is, Tony. But you don’t say no to the people I work with.” She curled her fingers against Tony’s and leaned in to whisper. “Please. Help me.”

“I’ll help you,” Tony said and he nodded, trying to stay upright and stable as the last of his sobriety floated just beyond his reach. She was his friend. He should help, right? Someone in SHIELD could do something, surely. Tony stood up, swayed, and caught the edge of the bar by luck more than skill. “Fuck. I think I may have overdone it.”

Just like that, Maya was at his side, one arm around his waist. “When did Tony Stark become a lightweight?” Her eyes danced with amusement and she leaned up to kiss his cheek and whisper, “Thank you.”

Tony let Maya keep him upright as he headed for the door. Autopilot. The ground felt like it was tilted at an angle and everything was going dim around the edges. The cool air outside the bar was no help. He’d have to call the suit down from the roof. Get back to the tower. Be violently ill. Apologize to Bruce…

Maya bundled Tony into her car and ran a hand through his hair. “Sit here and sober up. I’ll get you home.”

Tony tried to sit up, to no avail. He held out a hand in the direction of the roof, intending to call the suit to go with them, but that didn’t work either. And then the world tilted in on itself, turning him on his side as blackness rushed in to claim his consciousness.

“Christ. If he stayed upright much longer, I was going to have to get you to up the dose,” Maya smirked at the bartender as he joined her outside. “Get some people to get that suit off the roof, and close up here — we’re going to need to work fast.”

“What are you going to do when he wakes up?” The bartender put in the call, and glanced up at the roof.

“It’s Tony Stark. I’m going to fuck him, give him a drink and remind him that he promised to help out a friend,” Maya said with a laugh. She smoothed her hands over her dress and walked around to her own side of the car, ignoring the other man’s disapproving scowl.

“Maya…”

“Don’t be jealous, Killian. It doesn’t become you.”

“I am not jealous. But if he doesn’t cooperate, then what?” Killian’s voice was measured and even, his gaze steady as he looked at Maya. She smiled at him.

“I have contingencies planned. Trust me, he’ll be helping one way or another. We’re too close to give up now, love.” Maya walked over to where Killian stood, a little ways away from the car, and put her hands on his shoulders. “You trust me don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“And you love me?”

“With all my heart.”

“Good.” Maya nodded and slid a hand into Killian’s hair, coaxing him into a lingering kiss.

Killian stood still until she pulled away, not reaching after her, not touching her at all. It wasn’t until she was in the car and driving away that he responded, “But do _you_ love _me?_ ”


	20. Adult Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce stalls Steve, just as promised. The assassins make a house-call.

“Does he _ever_ follow orders?” Steve asked. He took a sip from the coffee cup Bruce handed him and sighed. “I thought you were keeping him on the painkillers for a while.”

“He doesn’t need them now. Side-effect of when the Other Guy pays a visit — it ups Tony’s healing factor,” Bruce said. He turned his own coffee cup in his hands. “As for following orders… I’ve never given him any to follow.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re not going to tell me.” It wasn’t a question. Steve sighed again and rubbed his jaw. “I’m not the enemy here, Bruce.” He paused, looking for the right words to say, but Bruce spoke up first.

“No one is calling you an enemy, Steve,” Bruce looked up from his coffee and into the other man’s very blue eyes. “But you can’t deny that there has been some… animosity. I apologize for my part in that.”

“Some of that was my fault too,” Steve admitted after a moment’s consideration. “It’s no secret that Tony doesn’t like being told what to do. If he listens to anyone, though, it’s you.”

“Maybe because I don’t tell him what to do.” Bruce looked away again. This conversation was a mistake. Volunteering to ‘stall’ Steve so that Tony could go out on a date? Bruce didn’t know whether to laugh or smash the coffee cup against the wall.

“Even when it might save his life? C’mon, Bruce. You’re better than this,” Steve said and he shook his head. “You’re letting emotion get in the way of practicality.”

“And you aren’t?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “It’s not _me_ you’re rushing to over-protect, mission or no mission.”

“I’m _trying_ to do what was asked of me, and keep you _both_ safe. I’m not… look,” Steve paused and contemplated the coffee mug in his hands. “It was just the one kiss. Tony was drunk out of his mind. If you hadn’t come in, he probably wouldn’t have even remembered it. So can we all just agree that I made a mistake and get on with our jobs here? The fact that I kissed Tony Stark _once_ over six months ago is no reason for him to run off when we need to have you both working on a way to neutralize that weapon.”

“We’ve got the algorithm set. Everything now is just a matter of time, programming and testing.” Bruce shrugged. The process wouldn’t go any faster with them watching it — Jarvis would have their best variants ready to test soon. Bruce took a sip of his coffee before he asked, “If you knew he was drunk out of his mind, why’d you do it?”

“I didn’t realize how drunk he was until after he pushed me away. When he tried to go after you, he couldn’t stand up, and then he was talking nonsense. I tried to get him to calm down, but he shoved me again and I let him leave and that’s all that happened, period.” Steve set the coffee down, practically untouched.

Bruce opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it again. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room.

After a while, Steve took his coffee cup to the sink. “So, how long were you and he…?”

“Around six months.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know about ‘now’,” Bruce admitted. “The mission comes before personal issues.”

Steve nodded. “Right. But —”

“No ‘buts’. We have a job to do, and we’re going to get it done.”

“Fair enough. Bring me up to speed?” Steve asked. He leaned back against the counter and watched Bruce turn the coffee cup in his hands.

“We’re running a broad-spectrum analysis to get the potential frequencies right to jam the signal,” Bruce replied. Steve’s look of confusion elicited a bit of rephrasing on Bruce’s part. “We’re narrowing down the settings to be sure we’ve got the right ones when we go into the field. Jarvis is doing a lot of the testing for that.”

“Oh. Is that why he’s been so quiet?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “You expected him to chime in on a personal conversation?”

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted. “We talked for a while before and he seemed to…”

“To what?”

“To care about you,” Steve answered with a shrug. “I’m still not sure how conversational etiquette goes for someone who is always around, but that can’t be seen.”

“I am pleased that you think of me as ‘someone’, Captain,” Jarvis interjected smoothly. “Dr. Banner, Agents Barton and Romanov are on their way up. Shall I order dinner?”

“Let’s see how long they plan on staying first, Jarvis,” Bruce replied and he set the coffee cup on the counter on his way to the door.

In his time living with Tony, Bruce had never fully relaxed into the idea of the penthouse as being his as much as it was Tony’s. Still, when it came to niceties like answering the door, Bruce did not hesitate. He’d lived here for six months with full security clearance — if anyone had the right to open the door to Tony Stark’s penthouse, he did.

“Hey, Doc,” Clint greeted Bruce with a smile and without breaking stride, but his eyes had darted to every possible area of ambush or escape before he’d even made it across the threshold.

“Bruce,” Natasha said with a smile of her own, “Good to see you. Is Tony in?” She peered around Bruce and past Clint, making her own visual sweep of the premises before entering as well.

“Afraid it’s just me and Dr. Banner,” Steve said. He’d left the kitchen only a few moments after Bruce, though he hadn’t followed the other man all the way to the door.

“Didn’t realize Tony was expecting company or I would have reminded him before he stepped out,” Bruce said with a smile he didn’t feel. He shut the door and turned to face the others. “I can make coffee if you want to wait, or Jarvis can order dinner if you haven’t eaten yet.” It was unsettling, inviting people to dinner in a place where he no longer lived. In the midst of his discomfiture, Bruce felt the Hulk stir in the back of his mind, restless annoyance washing over him.

“Stepped out?” Natasha frowned. “We need to speak with him now — we’ve figured out where the base is, but we’re going to need a cover to get in.”

“Wait, I don’t understand — if you need a cover, why not just go to SHIELD?” Bruce glanced between Natasha and Clint.

“That’s just it, Doc. We think it’s probably some of our own people running the show. Nat clued me in that Stark did a full download of SHIELD’s computer system last year — we need the old protocols to get a security card that will get us in without triggering the alarms,” Clint explained.

“Woah, wait. Have you gone to Fury with any of this?” Steve asked.

“We haven’t gone to anyone with any of this,” Natasha shook her head. “One, no time. Two, the risk of being uncovered before we can infiltrate is too great. Bruce, can you —”

“Already dialing,” Bruce replied. He listened to Tony’s phone ring in the background, but after 10 seconds it kicked him to voicemail. “He’s not picking up. Jarvis, will you keep dialing him? And is my security clearance high enough to get these SHIELD files in the meantime?”

“Of course, Doctor. However, I am concerned. I am unable to make contact with the Mach V at this time. There is unexpected interference in the area.” Jarvis brought up a screen so that Bruce could see the general location and the interference field. “A wider scan indicates there may be larger outages forthcoming.”

“Shit,” Bruce swore under his breath. The Hulk’s growls were starting to get louder in the back of his mind, but there was none of the tension that usually meant Bruce was in danger of transforming. Even with Tony holding the reins, Bruce had always felt _something_ , an echo of the strain of keeping himself in check. But now, there was nothing. Just an empty space where Bruce’s perception of control should be. “Shit,” Bruce said again. He took a deep breath. “Alright. Natasha, Clint — tell Jarvis what you need for the protocols and I’ll start working on security cards. Steve — there’s a bar on 85th street, Caledonna, I think it’s called. It’s on 85th and 2nd. If Tony’s there, bring him back. If he’s not… see if you can find out from the bartender where he went or who he left with.”

Steve nodded and headed for the door. “I’ll call as soon as I know, one way or the other.”

“Anything else we can do?” Clint asked. Natasha was already entering the data specifications onto another screen.

“Figure out a way to get a hold of Thor without tipping anyone off,” Bruce said as he looked over his own screen. “These areas of interference are popping up all over the island. We’re about to have our hands full, and sooner than we’d hoped.”

 


	21. Integral Integration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has a moral crisis. Maya makes a hasty decision. (Trigger warning for dub-con. Also, if you don't like het, you're going to want to skim a bit.)

The slow rise to consciousness brought with it a steady stream of pressure, and… pleasure. Tony grew restless from it, a sliver of warmth that ran along his cock from base to tip and then back down again, over and over, building with intensity each time. Someone was stroking him off. Someone who knew exactly where to touch, how to linger at that one spot just underneath the head of his cock…

_Bruce._

Was it Bruce? Tony couldn’t tell at first, couldn’t open his eyes enough to see anything, couldn’t voice anything past a groan but… no. No, that was not Bruce. Bruce’s hands had a gentleness to them, a _smoothness_ that was due to the fact that a visit from the Hulk took away every scrape, every callous, every scar that Bruce had built up in the interim. But despite all that smoothness, Bruce had a man’s touch.

They had still been learning one another before everything went wrong, and there had been many rough, demanding lessons as their intimacy progressed. Bruce had always made it hurt just enough. Not pain — it was the kind of hurt that was actually on the far edge of pleasure — but almost too much. And it was the kind of sensation that had made Tony cry out and then blush all over at the fact that he was getting vocal over a handjob.

“Stop,” Tony gasped. He still couldn’t quite get his eyes open. But that was definitely _not_ Bruce, and even though Tony could already feel the ache of regret when that hand paused, there was also a sense of relief. If whoever it was would just stop now… then he wouldn’t have to explain to Bruce how he’d been sleeping around on top of everything else. Never mind that they weren’t actually officially together again.

“Stop? Oh come on, Tony, I don’t think it’s been so long that I’ve forgotten what you like,” Maya purred into Tony’s ear. Her thumb ran back and forth across the very tip of Tony’s erection, deliberately teasing him. “Or do you want something else?”

The memories came rushing back in all at once — the bar, the drinking, Maya in that dress, the lab results — and before thinking about Extremis could take the edge off of Tony’s arousal, he felt a weight on top of him shift and a sudden warmth and wetness against his cock that made him bite back another groan.

_Oh god. Fuck. I have to tell her to stop that. I should not let her — oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Has it really been over a year since someone sucked me off? Am I really going to tell her to stop doing that?_ Tony shut his eyes tight, despite never having managed to open them fully in the first place. “Maya… fuck… stop. You have to… I’m not… I’m seeing someone.” _Holy hell I think I hate myself right now._

Tony tried to reach for Maya when she pulled away, but his arm stopped short and that made his eyes snap open when no amount of pleasure could. He was tied down. Or more accurately, velcroed. The cuffs were soft, but there was absolutely no way to get out of them, or even struggle very much, as best Tony could tell. His clothes had gone missing in the interim as well, and there was nothing to keep him modest other than Maya’s hand, which was only good for partial concealment at best.

“Seeing someone? Not that cow-eyed Pepper Potts again,” Maya sighed. She was mostly out of that physics-defying dress, the matching heels casually tossed to one side of the bed. Of all the things she’d missed about Tony Stark, the sex was definitely within the top five. The integrity was new, and not entirely welcome.

“Cow-eyed? What? No. Not Pepper,” Tony forced himself to look at Maya’s face instead of addressing her nipples. “Pepper’s dating Happy. I’m… with someone else, now.”

“Well, whoever she is, she must be really pretty.” Maya rocked back a bit, letting go of Tony’s cock with a slight shake of her head and a definite smirk.

“… not pretty. Beautiful though, definitely. Incredibly, unbelievably smart. Gorgeous eyes. Wicked sense of humor. The most amazing ass I’ve ever seen.” Tony listed off a few of Bruce’s numerous and engaging qualities and wondered if it was possible to die from frustrated lust. Then Tony remembered that he’d lived through puberty and decided that he was probably safe. Probably.

“She sounds like me.” Maya shifted her weight and slid off of Tony’s thighs, deliberately flashing him as she got out of bed.

“You’re… not as hairy,” Tony admitted to Maya’s crotch as she left the bed. “But you can let me go now and we can… work on actual work.” Work was good. Work was safe. And getting out of those binds was becoming a much larger priority than all the things that Maya would not be doing to his dick. Restraints were bad — a definite trigger for things that no one needed to see or even suspect.

“Well, I have to come out on top somewhere, don’t I?” Maya smiled and fastened the snaps at the side of her dress. “And you’re right. We should get to work. I wanted to have one more good night, for old time’s sake, but that was silly of me. You see, Tony…” Maya walked around to the other side of the bed and put her hand against a panel. Part of the wall slid away to reveal several screens and a console, along with a plethora of medical equipment. “…when I said I needed your help, what I meant was that I needed your tech. The arc reactor, specifically. I wanted to use Vanko, but you killed him.”

“Now Maya,” Tony began as he watched the room transform, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but… what kind of batshit crazy are you? Kidnapping — and I’m starting to suspect drugging, too — are not the ways to ensure positive scientific collaboration.”

“I don’t _want_ your collaboration. I don’t want anything other than your total cooperation with everything I need you to do. That’s why we’re going to start a little insurance policy. If you would be so kind as to look to your right? You’re not going to see it clearly, but it’ll be close enough to make it out. I’m afraid I put it a bit out of your peripheral vision, and you’re still pretty numb from the local so I doubt you feel it either.”

Tony turned his head, and the gnawing dread over what he knew he was about to see killed any remaining desire that might have lingered. “An IV line. Let me guess — Brachial vein?”

“You are a bright, bright boy, Tony Stark. And because I want to preserve as much of that as I can, you’re only getting half the initial dose of _Extremis_ sub. H 30. I made a few little adjustments after poor Killian destabilized. You will live a good, long while as long as you do what I need you to.”

Tony watched the slow drip from the line leading down to his arm, and then closed his eyes and laughed. There was no humor at all to it, but he turned and met Maya’s eyes before he asked, “Did you do a full medical profile while I was asleep?”

“No need to. I have your file from SHIELD — it has your latest medical records,” Maya’s smile was still in place, a look of triumph in her dark eyes. “Don’t worry, Extremis will take care of that heart condition. However, I’ll be very interested to see how it integrates the reactor.”

“Well, we’re doomed,” Tony said with another laugh. His smile was bitter. “My most recent, albeit involuntary, SHIELD work-up was before the invasion. They didn’t have me in med bay long enough, last time. And my latest side project just started five months ago and has been completely off the record.”

“Doomed. Really, Tony, you think I don’t know your bluffs by now?” Maya asked. She made a few adjustments at the console, and then brought over a heavy cable almost as wide as her wrist. There were several metal clips on the end with little ‘hooks’ along the edges. “Now, here is where I have to apologize again. This is going to hurt, a lot. I’d hoped to give you an orgasm to take the edge off, but —” Maya slammed the end of the cable against the arc reactor, and the metal clips locked onto the fastening pins with a soft click-click-click. “You’re in a committed relationship.”

The feedback was immediate and intense — pain crackled across Tony’s ribcage and down his spine and up his throat to the back of his eyes. Tony’s first thought was Bruce, holding back for Bruce, to give him time, space, anything before the Hulk would take over — but that thought was wiped away in seconds on the rising tide of electricity coursing over his body.

Maya watched Tony arch up involuntarily from the shock, and then turned to the readouts. She was so engrossed with the first stream of data that scrolled across her monitor that she didn’t hear the growl that passed for speech in Tony’s current state.

“Should’ve done the work-up… Chitauri… biotech…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe it has taken me this long to update. I apologize to everyone who has been waiting, and hopefully the next wait will be much shorter. I love all of your comments and appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read.


	22. Proprioceptivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unintended consequences of high voltage, complex physics, and cavalier networking protocols.

What a surprise, Steve thought as he cut the engine to the bike and nudged the kickstand into place. The only real question was whether Tony had lied to Bruce, or if this was an honest ‘bar’s closed, change of plans’ situation. The bar itself didn’t look like much from the outside — just a simple wooden door with metal security bars and glass windows around the front that rendered said bars useless for anything approaching security.

Steve walked around the side of the building, checking for any signs of movement. The windows were dark, and the little postage-stamp sized parking lot at the nearby corner was empty.

Nothing to do now except check in and try to regroup. Steve pulled the phone out of his jacket pocket and ran his thumb over the glowing Avengers icon in the corner of the screen.

Static.

“Well, so much for technology,” he muttered and dropped the phone back into his pocket. As if on cue, the street lamps flickered and went out one by one. Must be the interference Bruce was talking about, Steve thought and he picked up the pace as he headed back to his bike.

Even without the street lamps, there was still light - a red, pulsing glow permeated from bar that moments before had seemed pitch black. Steve paused at his bike and unstrapped his shield.

Option 3, the idea that Tony hadn’t left the bar under his own free will, exploded in a shower of glass, wood splinters and slivers of hot metal. Cap yanked the shield free and brought it up to his face, crouching down just in time to hear the shrapnel pelt the surface.

Glass shards bit into the fabric of his jeans, stopped short by the reinforced weave of the uniform he wore underneath his street clothes. Cap stood up and for a moment, everything was silent.

No sirens, no one yelling…

It lasted for all of five seconds, then his ears recovered from the shockwave of the blast and the sounds came rushing in all at once: glass crunching under his feet, people shouting and distant car alarms. Of the perpetrators, there was no immediate sign - remote detonation.

Cap swore under his breath and went back to his bike. The signal on his comm was still dead, which meant no backup or intel was forthcoming. He’d have to figure this one out on his own…

 

——————————————

 

Bruce took off his glasses and ran a hand over his face as if he could push back the growing restlessness of the Hulk at the back of his mind. Something wasn’t right. Tony’s control over the Hulk reaction had been like having another hand on the steering wheel that might turn at any moment. This though…

This was like someone had taken the steering wheel out of the car entirely. And it was getting worse.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” Bruce announced. “It’s not safe.”

“Not safe? This place has the best security in Manhattan and all of the backup power you could want,” Clint said with a confused scowl.

At his side, Natasha made a frustrated noise.

“I can’t do this here. Stark has no typical inputs on any of these stations. There’s no way for me to even get past the login screens at this rate.”

“I’m afraid access to this data is available only in this location. However, there are standard keyboards in the labs below us. You could bring one up and connect it here,” Jarvis’ reply sounded distant, a consequence of processing simultaneous ADAM algorithm simulations, a widespread scan of the interference popping up across the city, and running the full SHIELD databanks on a separate server (to prevent unauthorized access to any classified data). He was, quite literally, in several places at once. That he still could not make contact with the Mach V was distressing, and having an emotional response required yet another processing stream, but one he dared not deactivate.

“No, I’ve got to go,” Bruce repeated. He started for the door, pushing past Clint’s outstretched hand. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The empty feeling had subsided but in its place there was heat and unease, like the beginnings of a panic attack crawling around the edges of his mind. Hulk’s roar echoed through his thoughts, and he could feel the monster breathing down his neck. The lab was too small. Too crowded. Too… hot.

He had to get out.

“Hey, Doc… calm down,” Clint stood up moved to follow Bruce, but the other man rounded on him, pushing him back with a snarl.

“This is as calm as I get right now,” Bruce hissed. “Which is why… I need… to go.”

Clint took another step back and shot a look towards Natasha. There was the faintest tremor in her hands as she dismissed the screens, so slight that Clint wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it or not.

“We’re going to need access to the lab downstairs. Key us in so I can get the equipment and bring it back up here,” Natasha stood up and headed for the door with brisk professionalism. “After that, you can do whatever you need to.”

Bruce shook his head like he was trying to clear cobwebs and left his glasses on the desk as he followed her. “Right. Sorry. Jarvis, can you unlock lab 23 for us? I need —”

“Already opened, Sir.”

The glass doors slid aside and Natasha kept up a swift pace to the downstairs lab. This was not like the other times she’d seen Bruce change. Outwardly he was showing none of the signs - no green cast to his skin, no change in size or mass, and no loss of cognition that she could discern.

But he’d left his glasses.

Clint started to follow them, but paused. It didn’t take three people to get a keyboard, but he was pretty useless here in this lab, too. Hacking without tech was Tasha’s thing, and with the way his eyesight worked, he couldn’t focus on the floating letters on the screens enough to be of much assistance anyway.

“Jarvis, you have any visuals on what’s going on out there right now?” He wasn’t sure if the computer would respond to him. It seemed to categorically dislike SHIELD agents as best he could tell.

“Wireless communications are sporadic. Satellite feeds are also intermittent. I can attempt to access wired security cameras, however they are often at a fixed point and may not provide anything of use,” Jarvis replied.

“Right. Soooo we’re warming up to being royally fucked. I need…” He trailed off and then snapped his fingers. “Get me whatever you can around that bar Cap was supposed to go to,” Clint said. He might not be able to see everything, but even something of the surroundings might lend a clue.

“Very well.”

The images started flickering into view across the back wall of the lab, a good distance away from where Clint stood — which made it easier for him to focus as various parking lots, street signs, and doorways popped up.

“Aright, we’re ready to go here,” Natasha announced as she swept back into the room, keyboard in hand.

“Connected and ready for input, Agent Romanoff,” Jarvis replied.

Natasha got to work, logging into the pirated copy of the SHIELD system while Clint went back to scanning the images Jarvis had on-screen.

Clint squinted at one of the images on screen. “Hey, where’s —?”

“Location signal for the Mach V detected,” Jarvis interrupted.

“Where?” Bruce leaned into the lab, clutching the doorway hard enough that his knuckles were white.

“Attempting to triangulate now, Sir. There is something strange with the data, I can’t - ERROR, SYSTEM OVERLOAD, REALLOCATING RESOURCES IN 10 MINUTES.”

“Shit!” Natasha banged a fist on the desk and looked up, her frustration evident in a scowl as the lights went incredibly bright and then dimmed all at once - a brownout versus a blackout.

Clint stood there, mouth agape as Hulk tore the plaster away from the door frame, roaring loud enough to crack the windows in the lab partition. “Hey, easy there, big guy.” He paused, then murmured to Nat, “He did _not_ transform. Not like normal. I couldn’t even track it.”

Hulk spun away, howling in rage as he bounded down the hall, crashing through the narrow corridor. The floor shook with an audible -THUD- as the enormous creature smashed his way through and jumped the last few feet to land on the balcony outside. Hulk curled into a ball, both hands on either side of his head and roared again before launching himself over the ledge in a burst of speed.

“What just happened?”

“I don’t know. But we’ve got to contain him. Follow as best you can and try to get in touch with someone aboard the Helicarrier - we’re going to need Thor. I’ll get the keycards ready and meet you at the last entrance we found.”

Clint was going to open his mouth to protest, to say that they should just go force their way into that compound, when he saw it out of the corners of his eyes. Shadows on the monitors that were still up and tracking Cap’s location. “Aw hell. Yeah, on it. While am at it, I’ll see if I can raise Cap on the comms at all — he’s got about twenty people headed to his location and by the way those shadows are moving, they’re paramilitary.”

Natasha nodded and tossed Clint a set of keys. “Red car, third from the left in the parking garage.”

“Not going to ask how you got these,” Clint called back over his shoulder as he sprinted for the stairs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! Sorry again for taking so long to update, and I hope you'll stick with me to the end.


	23. Unintended Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's the real villain here, when you really think about it?

“Listen. This is not… I’m probably not gonna be what you need. I know I said I’d try. And I am trying. But—”

Maya’s fingertip against Tony’s lips was gentle. She tipped her head and the sunlight caught her hair and turned the curls from dark chocolate to deep brandy, like her eyes.

“Shh. You always say that. It’s alright, Tony. I don’t expect you to be perfect. That’s not what this is.”

“I know. I know,” Tony said. He shook his head and smiled, reaching out to slide a hand into her hair. He kept smiling, even as the guilt twisted and clawed at the pit of his stomach.

He wasn’t going to be able to stop. Not for Maya. Not for anyone. And eventually… she would get tired of the bullshit and she’d leave. Tony didn’t know what he’d do when that happened. Didn’t want to think about it. Even the half-formed thought hurt, made his lungs feel like they were on fire every time he took a breath. Gave him a crushing headache that was worse than the hangover he was pretending not to have. Fuck, everything always hurt the morning after, and that understanding look in Maya’s eyes made it a thousand times worse.

_You shouldn’t keep forgiving me…_

“We’ll try again,” Maya put a hand over Tony’s. “I know things between us are probably moving more slowly than you’re used to.”

“That’s not a problem,” Tony was quick to say. He wasn’t even sure why he said it. Maybe because he’d said it before. It felt like that. Like he was always apologizing and never quite saying the right thing. He wanted to tell her everything — about the drinking and the nightmares and the sudden immobilizing panic — all of it. Tony even wanted to tell her about the experiments he’d been working on. The modifications to the suit… but the time never seemed to be right to explain it properly.

The Chitauri weapons and armor had been a top priority for SHIELD after the invasion was thwarted. Tony had known they would be — after all, it was the supposed desire for weapons to fight an alien invasion that had started the trouble in the first place. But then none of said weapons had worked after Tony nuked what they assumed was the mothership.

Correction. Most of them had stopped functioning. He didn’t need the spurious explanations parroted over the airwaves about ‘advanced explosives’ used in a bank robbery to clue him in to the fact that not all of the weapons were nonfunctional. All he had to do was go down into his workshop and see the results for himself.

No one could blame Iron Man for taking in a little salvage after the way his suit was nearly destroyed, right? Even if they _could_ blame him, Tony didn’t give a damn. The technology was fascinating. So far advanced from his own creations and yet… compatible in so many ways. The biointegrations themselves were a work of genius: carefully crafted electroconductivity receptors, crystal-cellular transport systems for energy and repair, organic metals that ‘grew’ in prearranged patterns and dynamically adapted to heat or cold…

As much as Tony hated (and even feared) the Chitauri, he found himself loving their tech as he took it apart, bit by bit.

And in the aftermath, in the cold and the dark when he couldn’t look up at the night sky without seeing the stars blotted out by a million ships in his mind’s eye… Tony had made a decision. The Chitauri… they might come back. But he was going to be ready for them, no matter the cost.

He’d wanted to tell her. Especially after the first few injections, the first few nano-implants that had made the nightmares so much worse… But he knew Maya wouldn’t like that. She held a rightfully dim view of self-experimentation after…

_After what?_ Tony’s mind blanked, and everything went dark for half a second. _After what…?_

_“Tony? Tony, come back to me…”_

_———————————————————-_

“Something’s off,” Maya said with a frown. “It shouldn’t be progressing this quickly.” She slid her hand over several controls on the grid, adjusting the energy outflow with a deft touch. “His cortisol levels are off the charts, even sedated. And his fever keeps spiking. I won’t be able to make the adjustments I need to make him controllable if this keeps up.”

“Maybe ADAM recognizes him,” Killian said with a faint curl of amusement. “Maybe she’s trying to give him one last mercy by killing him quickly.”

There was no love lost on Tony Stark - so many of his own bids to produce weapons systems and AI for the military had been crushed thanks to the exclusivity of old money and closed door negotiations. Every potential business deal to align with Stark himself ignored because Killian wasn’t ‘important enough’ to get past the bulldog Stark had hired for security. He was a hundred times more brilliant than Stark ever would be, but through an accident of birth it was Stark that got the limelight and Killian was left scrambling for what was left in the shadows.

No, he preferred to see Stark just where he was - strapped in as a test subject. Suffering. The only displeasing part of it was that Maya had chosen to give Stark the latest variant of Extremis, rather than one of the known fatal strains. Stark should have to wake up to the truth that he was dying, slowly and painfully. He should be losing his mind. Not regenerating a better one. That Maya couldn’t see that, after everything they’d both been through to get any recognition for their ideas, to get any kind of sustainable funding…

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Maya snapped. She didn’t even bother to look up from the readouts. “ADAM is based on her brain waves but it isn’t really _her._ No more than — ”

“No more than I’m really _me_? Do you really want to go casting aspersions on someone else’s lifework, especially given how much it’s contributed to your own?”

“This wasn’t Howard Stark’s ‘lifework’. You know it, I know it. He was too busy blowing people up and spoiling his asshole son. Doing something like _this_ to preserve the memory of his dead wife isn’t honoring anything. You are you, Al. Stronger and better than you were before. Why are you so hung up about Tony? You agreed to this. You knew the risks. And the rewards.”

“Well that’s true,” Killian said with a smirk. “At least, I _think_ it’s true. Funny thing about memory. We both know it’s just a chemical form of storage. Easily altered if you understand how it works.”

“Now is definitely not the time for this. We need Tony Stark alive. If not for his help then at least for his funding. You want to think, think on this: how much easier will it be to completely perfect Extremis if we have his resources? I can’t change the variant you got, Killian. But whatever’s happening to Tony… he might just be the breakthrough we need to get the Council’s full backing.”

“You’re still in love with him,” Killian spat. “I see it now. You were too late to seduce the old man and his son fucked you once or twice and went on his merry way when you thought he’d see that you were _special_ and not like all those other girls because you were so _smart_. After all this, you still think you’ve got something to prove.”

The slap brought an emphatic end to the sentence. Maya glared up at Killian, her hand stinging but not enough to match her temper. “You are being irrational, Al. Dear. You need to take a moment to _reassess and evaluate what’s really important._ ”

“Control phrases now, Maya? I’d say I’m hurt but that would be a lie,” Killian watched as she stepped away from him and went back to the readouts. His joints felt cemented in place - as much as he wanted to follow her and snap her neck, the only movement Killian could manage was breathing, blinking, and the requisite function for speech.

“This is for your own good, Al.”

“It was all a lie, wasn’t it? We never actually dated at all. I’ll admit, I was starting to get suspicious. I can still remember how often you rebuffed me when we first started working together, even if it is fuzzy around the edges now.”

“You’re being irrational.”

Killian continued, undaunted. “Your one mistake, Maya, is that you tried too hard to make it perfect. All of my so-called memories of you? Of us? Perfect. Down to the last iota of detail. So I knew… I knew but deep down I wanted to believe that the memories you gave me were things we _both_ wanted.”

Maya pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “You really aren’t going to give me any choice, are you? Fine.”

“What are you going to do now, kill me? We both know that won’t work.”

“Don’t be stupid, Killian. You’re the most successful prototype so far. You wanted a piece of the new variant. I think… it was wrong of me to deny you that,” Maya said with a nod. She ran her hands over the console and pulled up another screen. A small silver disk in the far corner of the room began to glow with blue light. “But you’re going to have to learn to get along with Tony, and I think the best way for that to happen is if your life depends on it.”

“For such a smart woman, you can be one dumb bitch…” Killian chuckled as the blue light flared up. He felt the brief tug of force like a hand at his chest, then all too quickly the light shifted from blue to brilliant white.

Killian’s chuckle became an outright laugh as the monitors blew out, and a surge of energy rippled through the equipment, making it screech in protest.

Maya shrieked and ducked away from the shower of sparks that erupted from the console. “What did you _do?!_ ”

Killian felt his muscles go lax and responsive again as the light faded away. In three quick strides he was across the room. He hoisted Maya off her feet, holding her by the shoulders. “I laid in a little insurance policy. Extra-curricular data collection you might call it. I was in love with you, but I wasn’t blind. You won’t be linking me up with Stark any time soon.”

“Tony! Tony wake up! Tony, come back to me,” Maya struggled, pushing and clawing at Killian’s face and neck to try to get him to let go. The grip on her shoulders tightened and the room went grey as Killian slammed her against the wall.

“Wrong person to cry out for in this set of circumstances, _sweetheart_ ,” Killian smirked and held Maya aloft again.

“Put. Her. Down.” The cords and tubing snaking from Tony’s arms and legs dragged across the floor before dropping off entirely - pushed out of his skin by a grey metallic ooze that wrapped itself around Tony in a honeycomb of flexible plating at his shins, ankles, forearms and wrists.

It was dark. Everything was so dark. But Maya was there. Her hair was long and straight, not short and curly, but she was there. Her eyes were cool grey or green or blue, not warm like brandy, but she was there. She was there. She was there.

Killian felt his rib snap when Stark punched him, right at his side. A flash of heat and it healed again but the pain echoed across his nerves and he dropped Maya to the floor, turned and swung — only for his fist to hit what felt like solid metal at Stark’s throat. Killian felt the grooves in the metal, dented by his knuckles. He also felt the blood splatter against his hand. His own blood.

Before he could recover his balance, Stark slammed into him full on and they both went crashing to the floor.

“Stop it! Stop it both of you!” Maya scrambled to her feet. The lab was in shambles, there were intermittent power surges. The monitors were ruined and she had no idea if they were still controlling the power fluctuations above ground or if it was all completely destroyed.

Tony stopped. The shifting plates of metal gliding across his skin stopped too.

Killian did not stop. He kicked as hard as he could, sending Tony crashing into the makeshift hospital bed. “Sorry, Mr. Stark. Some other time, perhaps?” Killian didn’t wait for an answer, either. Let Maya play house with her new pet. He had a job to finish, and a very lucrative position to secure.

The only thing left to do was to make sure that SHIELD and their pet ‘superheroes’ didn’t ruin it for him.

 


	24. Active and Passive Transport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve takes an evening stroll and contemplates kinetic art.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Tomorrow is my birthday, but this present is for you guys. Thanks for all the wonderful messages over the years. I'm finishing this story. Can't promise a timetable, but it's getting done.)

Steve was good at math in the way most art people are good at math—he knew how to make lines connect at the right angle and at the right moment to recreate the vision in his mind. For example, there was a line that ran from the partially demolished wall of the bar to the fire escape of the next building over, back to a street pole and then to his hand.

When he threw his shield along the first line, art and math melded into an arc of graceful brutality that ricocheted between nine different helmets and created a spiral that wrapped around the street pole, back towards the alleyway, and then into his hand just in time to defend against small arms fire from the rooftop of the next building over.  Those nine down. Five more in between him and the roof where the gunman had his sights trained.

Steve hefted his shield and charged.

On impact, Steve understood two things. One, these people weren’t human. Couldn’t be—he’d fought humans before, knew how they moved, how much force it took to take one down, and how much fight to expect. And two, they were well-trained. The pushback wasn’t like with the Chitauri, where he had to commit every ounce of force he could muster. But it wasn’t like knocking through tin soldier Nazis either. The five men he barreled into had pushed him back with one force of effort. Ten hands to his two. None of them fell.

More worrisome, they all seemed to move as one and with their faces hidden behind black helmets, Steve could not know if they were mutant, alien or other. And with their constant barrage of attacks, there was time to take in the details; Steve’s sole preoccupation was the countering of every punch, contorting his body to bring the shield up at the right angle, or to put it aside in favor of a solid punch before swinging it back down again to give himself more space.

And through it all came the bullets. Short bursts of gunfire that he had to dodge or block, leaving him open to another kick, another punch—he shoved two of the men to one side and brought his shield down on the head of a third only to get kicked in the back of the knees by the fourth and then punched by the fifth hard enough that his vision haloed and a high-pitched whine started up in his left ear.

“Enough! Get him up here.”

Two men hoisted him off his feet by his shoulders and two more grabbed his ankles—where the hell were they all coming from? Steve struggled to keep hold of his shield while the seams of his jacket creaked and a scent like burning pot roast stung his nose.

What the—? Was his jacket burning?

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Put him down and back up,” the gunman snapped. Steve landed with a thud on the gravel, and the man on the rooftop jumped down. The asphalt buckled beneath his heavy boots and Steve found himself staring up at the barrel of a rifle pointed right between his eyes.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“I could ask you the same thing, but of course everyone knows Captain America.” Up close, the voice was garbled, like it was being fed through a synthesizer or electronically-generated from the helmet itself.

There were few letters etched into the muzzle of the rifle, right along the edge. AIM. Some kind of marksman joke, but Steve didn’t find it funny even as his attention flicked back and forth between the rifle and the man who held it.

“I was looking for a friend.”

“Imagine that. I just left a friend. Well, former friend. These designations can be so fickle, overall.” The man behind the helmet chuckled. “Hold him down.”

Steve tried to roll to one side, out of the line of fire for that rifle, but the men who had dropped him were just as quick to pin him again. This time, Steve could see gaps in some of the helmets where the composite was deteriorating— buckling from the heat both men gave off in waves. Definitely not human, Steve decided.

The man with the rifle strapped it onto his back again, then put his hand over Steve’s face. Steve felt a pinch at his throat and then that high-pitched humming returned along with a distant, infuriated roar.

“Goddamnit. Is -every- hero in the tri-state area out looking for Tony Stark? Typical. You three—take care of the Captain. The rest of you—disperse. This is only the first salvo. We’re not going to overplay our hand.”

 The man stood up. Steve watched him pocket a vial, then back up and head for a rapidly spreading haze that looked like fog. Several other men followed. Steve struggled to get away from the two men still holding him by his shoulders. The physical contact was scorching hot—his jacket was smoldering and the uniform beneath it would likely soon join it if he didn’t get free.

Steve twisted back and forth while the third person returned from the fog—a woman, gauging from the contours of the uniform. Underneath the helmet, Steve could see a faint glow, getting brighter and brighter like cherry-red coals behind a warped grill cover.

“No… no, sto—”

She took two steps back, then started running towards him. The uniform crackled and sprouted gouts of flame off one side as the woman spread her arms and…

…ran into the giant green wall that was the Hulk. Hulk’s landing was enough to stagger the two holding Cap and he pulled away, rolling to his feet with both hands clutching his shield.

Hulk wrapped his hand around the burning woman’s waist and threw her for distance. The explosion happened seconds later, briefly brightening the sky overhead.

Steve struck the man closest to him, knocking him into the far wall of the ruined bar which crumpled under the force.

The last man left let out a scream of outrage and and ran for the Hulk, uniform burning away with every step. A squeal of tires on asphalt made Steve’s attention snap towards the street, and he looked up just in time to see a volley of arrows lodge themselves over the charging man’s back along his spine. There was a brief flash of electricity that arced from arrow to arrow, then the man twitched and collapsed—the fire guttering down to nothing. Hulk nudged the man with his foot and he rolled to one side, unconscious. That earned a derisive snort.

“Tin-man no here.”

“Didn’t see him at all. Just these guys—thanks for the assist.” Steve finally caught his breath and put the shield onto his back.

“Sure, don’t mention it. But when we find Tony…maybe no one mention this little joyride.” Clint grinned.


End file.
